Trying to Deny, Trying to Protest
by DuskitMermaid
Summary: Christine's life, from that night beneath a moonless sky, how she does her best to live life for the next ten long years and the reunion with the man she was supposed to be with.
1. Chapter 1

I gazed up at the tall, sad building, my hands tight around my cloak as my eyes squinted to make out its shape. The only light available was that from a street lamp down the road, lighting up the building just enough for me to make out its figure.

I told myself, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, that I was being stupid. Why was I here? What good could possibly come out of this? But, standing here, I knew I had to go on further, even if that meant hurting myself in the process.

My mind had been made up as soon as I'd woken that night. It was almost midnight when I sat up in my bed and gathered my thoughts, trying to calm down my breathing from the dream which had gotten me so worked up. A dream about _him._ For weeks, I'd been seeing his face in my mind. The face which had haunted me so horribly since I'd left him behind in the catacombs under the opera house. At the time, it had just seemed like the thing that needed to be done. And even now, with my wedding less than a day away and my life already planned and laid out in front of me, I couldn't deny that I'd made the right decision. Still, seeing as it was the decision I _had _ chosen, I couldn't be sure that it was the right way...

His pleading eyes still shone at me, every night before I fell to sleep. I'd relived that night over and over again in my mind so many times since Raoul and I had escaped, and the pain from seeing him in such a state wasn't easing at all. I hadn't been fair. I'd turned around without looking back. And if his life was any bit as horrible as what I'd gathered, that was something that I needed to apologise for. After all, there was no reason why I couldn't see him one last time, right? Of course, I almost belonged to Raoul, but to give the man who had watched over me for the longest of times some piece of mind and let him know how sorry I was...

I hadn't known I was sorry until tonight. Yes, I had always felt a little guilty for leaving his tortured soul down in his lair, but I always blamed it on the fact that he'd looked so pathetic. He had nothing. And when he thought he'd finally gained me, I'd snatched myself away, as well. Raoul was clearly the person who I was meant to be with - I was happy. I was going to be happy in years to come with Raoul. He had so much to give me, and I was excited to be recieving it and his love until we grew old together. But if I was going to enjoy it to the fullest extent, I needed to rid my angel of music from clouding my thoughts, and the best way I could think to do this was to let him know how sorry I was.

Almost two hours ago my feet had slipped out of the small bed in the cluttered room I'd called my home since leaving the opera house. I'd tip-toed past the door behind which I knew my new friend Clara - one of Raoul's family's maids - was sleeping, and out of the small house beside the estate. The mansion usually loomed out at me, day or night, but tonight was something different. There was no moon tonight, and it had been almost impossible for me to find my way to the road and into the comfort of the street lights that lead me to the Giry's house, a quick walk away.

I'd knocked quietly, hoping I had the right place. Meg had been to see me only the week before to let me know they had purchashed a small place to live while the opera house was being rebuilt. This was where she'd explained to me, but I couldn't be sure. However, after several moments, the heavy wooden door swung open, and Meg herself was rubbing her eyes in front of me.

"Christine?" she asked in confusion, lifting the candle she was holding in front of her face. "What are you doing? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I'm sorry, Meg," I reached my arms out to pull her outside with me, into the small garden so we would be sheltered by the thick plants. Any distance between us and her mother was what I had wanted at that moment. I knew if the older woman had come out to investigate and found out what I was going to ask, it would not end well. I was still relieved that Meg had been the one to answer the door. "I'm being haunted." I told her desperately.

"What are you talking about, Christine?" she asked. Her yawning ceased and she began to look a little worried.

I bit my lip and looked at the ground. "I know your mother keeps in touch with him, Meg." when I looked back up to my best friend, her face was blank. In all the years I'd known her, I'd learned to read her like a book. She was trying to keep something from me. "He's not really dead, is he?"

"Well, I assume so, Christine...all of Paris seems to think he perished in the fire."

"I can tell when you're lying to me, Meg."

She gave a small sigh and looked away from me. I raised an eyebrow and continued questioning her. "Do you know where he is, Meg? Can you take me to him?"

"Good heavens, Christine! It's not proper for me to be standing out here in my nightgown, let alone dragging you around the streets of Paris at an hour so late! Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Please, Meg. I need to see him."

"You're getting married in the morning." Meg hissed, resting her hand on my shoulder as she tried to knock some sense into me. "Think of Raoul. Would he be happy with you disappearing off, into the night like you are? Especially tonight, of all nights! Does anyone know you're out here?"

"Meg, if you don't let me know where he is, I swear I won't stop looking until I find him."

"Do what you must, Christine. But it's your fault if you're late to your own wedding. I had nothing to do with it."

"But you'll be the one they come to if they can't find me." I tried desperately, pleading with her through my eyes. "You're the last one I came to. And Meg, we both know you're a terrible liar..."

Meg glared at me for a long time in silence while I looked hopefully down at her in the light of the candle.

"Fine," she finally sighed. "But I'm only going to give you directions. You need to find your own way there." she paused for a moment, then added. "And promise me you'll be back in your cottage before anyone has the chance to find you gone."

I nodded quickly. "I promise."

She explained how to get to the small street in a whisper, glancing at the window every few moments lest her mother make an appearance, then told me about what I should expect the building to look like, not that her ever-so-detailed description was helping me in the intense darkness right now.

When she'd finished, I'd hugged her tightly, thanking her over and over again. She'd held me back, promised she'd see me at the wedding, then glided back inside in her graceful ballerina way.

So here I was, standing outside what I only hoped was the deserted apartment buildings Meg had sent me to. I carefully pulled myself up the few steps that lead to the old door and opened it quietly, my heart beating faster at the thoughts of what could be waiting for me on the other side. My mind slipped from terrifying thoughts of insects...spiders...to things more childish like murderers and monsters, but still I pressed on. I'd come this far and I sure as hell wasn't about to turn back now.

I closed the door behind me, getting rid of the only light I had from that one streetlamp, then turned to face a pitch black room. I swallowed loudly, and hadn't taken more than two steps when I felt something cold press itself against my mouth. I gasped in fear, realising is was a hand and tried to push myself away when it spoke.

"Why are you here?" it whispered viciously.

All at once, relief replaced my fear. I knew this wasn't right, for he was a murderer himself, but the fact that I had found him was enough to keep me from being scared. I'd done it.

HIs cold fingers slipped from my mouth as soon as they'd come, and I whispered into the dark. "Thank goodness it's you,"

Silence greeted me. Was he still there? But after a few moments, I heard him. "Christine?"

"I had to come and find you." I told him. "I had to see you before..." I trailed off, wondering what I was about to say. Why was I here? To apologise. So why hadn't I gotten it over and done with yet?

"Before what? Before returning back to the bed where you left that boy? Why are you here? To let me know how wonderful your life is now that you have everything you ever wanted?"

"We're not married yet." I told him, my eyebrows pulling together slightly. I hadn't expected him to be this cut off from me. Right before I'd left him, he'd been pouring himself out to me, but now...it was like it had never happened. Still, I knew he had a right to be like this. I'd left him with nothing. I'd left him in the most hurtful way anyone ever could. I'd left him to the mob that had been searching for us, and hadn't even bothered turning back to make sure he would be okay.

"Yet," he spat.

I heard him turn and begin pacing away from me, and I stumbled forward in the dark. "We're getting married tomorrow. But I woke tonight and knew I had to find you."

"Why bother?" he groaned in frustration. "What good is this doing either of us? Was there some reason as to why you're here? Or did you just wish to torture me with the thoughts of you in his arms tomorrow? In twenty-four hours, you would have forgotten about me, Vicomtess."

"Don't call me that," I sighed. This wasn't my angel in front of me. This facetious, dark creature was the Phantom of the Opera, and though I wanted to stay strong and stand up tall for myself, I was worried about breaking down in fear. I wondered if he were still near me when the silence dragged on, and stretched a hand out in front of me. "Please..."

I couldn't feel him in front of me. I was sure now that he'd left me in the darkness, and though I knew I ought to be turning and making my way back to the small cottage I'd called home the last few weeks, I ventured forward hopelessly, catching my foot in something on the floor and falling forward.

I raised my arms up in front of my face to sheild it from the impact I knew was coming, but it never did. Instead, my body fell onto another in front of me, and his hands caught my arms to stop me from falling any further.

The two of us breathed loudly in the darkness, trying to figure out what was happening as we stood so close to one another...I could feel his chest against my own as I straightened my knees. His hands on my arms were making my stomach churn, in a way that wanted me to tell him to hold me tighter, but I knew I couldn't do that. What was wrong with me? Raoul slipped into my thoughts, and I frowned. Why didn't Raoul's hands feel like this? Raoul...perfect, perfect Raoul...

"Why did you come here?" his voice sounded dangerous in the darkness, and I shook my head despite the darkness, at that moment not really knowing why I was there myself. I tried to gather my thoughts.

"I...I had to apologise."

"For what?" he growled. "Leaving me? Leaving with that percfect boy of yours? The one who can promise you the moon, while I would have only ever been able to give you darkness? Why on earth should you apologise for the one thing that was obviously going to happen?" his hands pushed me away, and I lost my balance from the force, falling back, onto my backside with my hands out behind me. I gaped at the pain, but didn't say anything as he continued. "I was a fool for thinking you would ever want me...for thinking anyone would ever want me...but I won't make that mistake again. I know now there is nothing for me in this world. The one thing I desperately wanted has been pulled out of my reach, and now there's nothing here for me. There's no point."

I climbed to my feet silently, listening to him and feeling his despair fill me. This poor creature...forever alone, just as I had felt once, years ago. For the first time, I'd realised the last few weeks had been lonely for me, too. With nothing to do most days except sit in the small sitting room in the cottage with Clara, or in the larger one in the mansion beside the cottage while Raoul tended to work, I'd grown to miss the excitement that had always been going on inside the opera house...was that really the life I wanted to live?

"You could have given me more than darkness, Angel." I said quietly. Why was I saying this? Where was this coming from? He didn't respond, and I kept talking, walking back to where I knew he was standing. "Your music would have been enough." I said quietly as I made it back to him. My hands were trembling as I reached up in front of him, and I grasped his face gently. Under my left hand, I could feel the cold porcelain of the mask that hid his face from the world, and under my right...a soft cheek. A wet cheek. There were tears leaking from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I told him quietly. "You've been so good to me, Angel. And I had the nerve to leave you and try to forget."

That was it. I had told him. Now I could go. Back to Raoul. Back to the cottage where I could sleep with nothing but dreams of Raoul and how we were going to spend our lives together, so happily. I should tell him right now that I was going...but I didn't.

His hand reached up to hold my own against the deformed, right side of his face, his fingers trembling slightly against my touch. "Oh, Christine." he breathed my name, and I closed my eyes at the sound of his beautiful voice, never wanting to forget. He made even the most simple sentences sound like music, and hearing my name leave his lips was like listening to one of the most beautiful operas in the span of the shortest of moments.

Before I knew what was happening, before I could even think of what I was doing, I pulled his face to mine and pressed my lips against the distorted form of his own for the third time in my life.

I felt him gasp against me, but I deepened the kiss, my body reacting on its own. I remembered the kisses we had shared back in his lair...the feeling I got from them was not a feeling I'd ever shared with Raoul. While Raoul's experienced lips had taught me what to do, this man in front of me was learning with me. We were making it up as we went along, and it felt wonderful. His swollen lips against mine were more breathtaking than those perfect ones Raoul posessed...it was a relief to find something out of the ordinary for once, and I hadn't expected that. Raoul had never brought up the moments I'd shared with the Phantom once we'd left his lair. I had the feeling he thought it would be better if we just never spoke of it so I could forget. Of course, it was something I'd wanted to keep to myself...something too wonderful to speak about.

His hands were now running down my shoudlers, stopping on either side of my ribcage and holding me desperately. I was beginning to feel lightheaded at the perfection, and was thankful that he was holding me as I began to sway. I felt my feet leave the ground in instant, and after a few moments they met carpet. Were we in a different room?

Our kissing had become more messy and desperate, and it took me a moment to clear my head enough to realise something. I pulled away from him immediately and his hands fell from my waist. "Wait," I gasped.

"Forgive me," he sobbed. He sounded as if he were at the other side of the room now. Had he really put that much distance between the two of us? "I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to..." he sounded so distressed, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him..._where were these thoughts coming from?_ I was marrying Raoul tomorrow! Raoul! What was the matter with me? Kissing other men, not even giving any consideration to my fiancé -

I hadn't thought about Raoul once since the moment the Phantom and I began kissing. It was as if he were a thing of the past that would not be bothering us again...as if he didn't really matter. I frowned at myself. He did matter, didn't he? I was marrying him...shouldn't I have felt guilty for what had come over me only minutes ago?

The strange thing was...I didn't. Not one bit. It was as though the strange man I was with now had made me see clearly and realise I'd been living my life wrong. At that moment, all I wanted to do was push Raoul out of the picture and continue with the Phantom. Everything had felt so wonderful and _right._ I'd already gone further with him than I ever had with Raoul almost forcing himself on me, and I hadn't even realised.

"Did you leave?" he asked. I realised I hadn't said anything after being completely kept with my thoughts, and looked up toward him, despite not being able to see anything.

"I'm still here."

He sobbed again, and I frowned sadly. Why was he so upset? Had what we were doing not felt wonderful and amazing to him, too?

"You must go. Leave me. Let me be. Forgive me. Forget me."

I shook my head at what he was saying. Right now, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I knew if I turned around now and went back to Raoul, I would never be able to stop thinking about him. I would forever be wondering about what could have happened between us. When I'd set out earlier that night, I hadn't ever imagined something like this coming out of our confrontation, but now that it had happened, I couldn't imagine anything else. It seemed like that had been what was meant to happen, and I didn't want to change anything.

"I'm not leaving." I told him, surprising myself. I wasn't? Was I going to stay here? Drop to the carpet beneath my feet and wait until morning to see him before running back to Raoul? The thought of going to my wedding tomorrow made my feel sick to my stomach. And what was going to happen afterwards, when Raoul and I returned home? ...I couldn't think about it. Even his kisses were enough to make me want to pull away from him and retire to my room, blaming tiredness. That wasn't going to keep working after we were married.

The Phantom didn't say anything in return to my words, and I knew he would be just as confused as I was. What was I doing?

"I stopped," I continued, now not entirely sure that I was still speaking to him. "Because I realised I didn't know your name."

I was, once again, met with silence. Had he really left? Or was he still there...oh, God. Had I offended him? Did he even have a name?

When he spoke again, it made me jump. He was now less than a foot away from me, and his voice was queit, void of any emotion I was able to read.

"Erik,"

"Erik," I repeated. Erik. That was is? Just Erik? But as I thought over it, Erik was wonderful. What a brilliant name! So simple, yet beautiful...

"Chrstine," he sighed. "Say my name again,"

"Erik," I said with a small smile. "Come here." as soon as I could feel him in front of me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned up and forward to find his lips once more. They were soft and gentle again, and his hands took their time finding their way back to my waist. His fingers were shaking worse than they had been before, and I knew I ought to be explaining myself and my actions, but right now didn't seem like the right time. There were more important things to be doing. What they were, I wasn't completely sure, but I had some idea. I knew I should have been scared of what I expected this to lead to, but I wasn't. Thrilled, yes. Excited, yes, but not scared. I _wanted_ this. I needed to be with him. This thought shocked me, and I reminded myself I should stop this while I could, but I dismissed it. I knew that if I didn't go along with what was happening to me, I would forever be wondering about what I'd missed out on.

It wouldn't matter that this night would become present in my mind during night I would spend with Raoul, because I was sure this was going to be the best out of all of them, and I could afford to think about such beauty during things that felt so unknown. I had suspicions that nights with Raoul wouldn't be like this at all, just from how I felt with him. With my angel - with _Erik_ - I'd always felt so safe and secure. Almost always, anyway. There was only two occasions where I'd actually feared the man in front of me; the first being when he'd screamed at me for removing his mask, and the second where I'd pleaded with him to spare my fiancé's life, but every other moment we'd shared together had been moments where my mind had given into my body and let me be completely whole beside him. Thoughts of the first time I'd ever been in his lair filled my mind, and as I thought of him singing Music of the Night and making me forget the world I'd known, I found myself clinging to him more tightly, trying to tell him I was completely sure of what was happening.

He was groaning into my open mouth, and I was breathing heavily against his own, my thoughts becoming more and more clouded at every moment. After a while, I felt the hard springs of an old matress press against my back, and that was where I awoke from my thoughts and froze. This wasn't right...something was wrong.

"I'm sorry," he began apologising again, and like before I felt him move away from me in horror at what he had done, but this time I leaned forward and grabbed his arm before he could put too much distance in between us.

"No," I told him gently, trying to calm him, to let him know this was okay. He'd never been given anything in his life, from what I knew about him. And I assumed was the only person he'd ever kissed...he was as knew to all of this as I was. We were learning together, and I wasn't about to let him leave me confused and unfulfilled.

"Stay here." I murmured. I pulled on his arm, and he moved toward me slowly, freezing when he felt my left hand against the mask on his face. When I began pulling it from his skin, his hand caught my wrist so tightly it hurt.

"No!" he shouted at me. I waited a moment for him to release me, but he never did, so I parted my lips and spoke as reasonably as I could.

"Erik, please. Your face doesn't scare me. I..." I paused, frowning a little at myself at what was running through my head. Was I delusional or something? Never had I thought this would leave my mouth. "I think you're beautiful."

He sighed against my arm, and his hand around my wrist slackened, now just keeping a hold on me. I felt his head begin to shake. "No, Christine...no...don't know what you're talking about."

Before he could react, I pulled the mask from his face and my wrist from his hand and held it out of his reach. I heard him suck in a huge breath, and before he could begin screaming at me, pushed my cheek against his own...our faces pressed together...soft, light skin that seemed so brown compared to his own pale, mangled flesh.

"Christine," I felt a tear leave his eye, trapped in the distortion of his face and hit my own cheek bone. I closed my eyes and turned my face further into his, my free hand holding to him. Our chests were now, once again, pressed together, and I felt his heart beating so quickly against my own in desbeleif.

"It's okay, Erik," I said softly. "You don't scare me. I'm here."

I felt his hands, one holding my face, the other on my hand on his cheek as he held me, as if he didn't ever want me to pull away, but I did. I pulled away only to press my lips back to his again. It was as if doing this had caused something in him to ignite, and this time we didn't stop. His hands didn't shake against the buttons of my dress, and he didn't act inexperienced or scared like I knew we both were. From that moment on, we treated each other as perfect equals, perfectly following whatever feelings presented themselves to us.

Without an image of where the two of us were, all I could picture was Erik, and that didn't bother me at all. I concentrated on the sounds of our breathing, the noises we pulled from each other...the music we created togher. The fourth time we fell back, beside each other, was the time we dared to speak. We both said things together in the darkness that neither of us had ever thought we would tell another soul. Raoul was not mentioned. He didn't even enter my thoughts. I didn't think of him once after I'd removed Erik's mask, and when I thought back on this, I didn't feel guilty at all. It was as if, for only this night, the two of us had been the only two people in the world. We were doing nothing wrong. We were in our own private heaven, and no one would be able to break us away from it.

As I lay there hours later, exhausted, feeling myself fall toward unconsciousness, I raised my hand to Erik's face and brushed my fingers across the trails his unusual skin made. I'd wondered if he was asleep, but knew he wasn't when I heard him sigh contentedly against my hand. This was the first time he'd ever really seemed comfortable about me making contact with his ditorted face, and that made me smile.

"Sleep, Christine." he whispered, kissing my forehead gently. "My love."

I blinked heavily, happily, wanting nothing more to let him know that I loved him, too, more than anything, as my hand fell away from his face. But opening my mouth seemed like too much of a struggle, and I wasn't sure how I was going to cope, so I gave in to the tiredness, accepting the fact that I'd let him know in the morning, when I awoke in his stong, safe arms.

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**I honestly have no idea if I'm going to get any readers with this, so if I manage, hello! It gets better, I promise.**

**Also, if you're reading, please review so I know to update, because if I don't get any responses obviously I'm just not going to bother.**

**Have a good day! :)**

**Chlowie, xo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! This is just going to be a short chapter, but the next will be longer. I didn't know if I should skip this one and just go straight to the next, but I'm going to try to get it up ASAP.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! There was one review in particular I would like to answer, but as it was delivered anonymously, I'm going to have to do it here.**

**This is adressing Milk. I can only assume that your review was meant to hurt my feelings, and I don't know why anyone would go out of their way to be so hurtful. I am not a writer, I am a singer. And seeing as this is FanFiction, most writers here are not professionals. I do not have access to any spell checking tools, so I write without them. I'm sorry for my mistakes which seemed to make you so angry, but everyone makes mistakes, and people must learn to overlook them.  
Also, I will change the category when this story begins to lean more toward Love Never Dies. When I think of a Love Never Dies story, I expect them to be set completely in Coney Island, ten years from the original story. This isn't happening right now in my story, and I see it as being closer to the Phantom of the Opera. I have read stories in the past that have been completely set in Coney Island, and lead on from the events in that story, and they have been categorised in the Phantom of the Opera, as well, so I don't see why you felt the urge to single me out and make me feel like an idiot.**

**Sorry! Now back to smiles and the next chapter.**

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**EPOV**

I stirred an hour before dawn, feeling more refreshed than I had in a long while. It took a moment for the events of the night previous to return to me, but when they did I jerked in disbelief, pushing myself up onto my arm to stare through the darkness. It had to have been a dream. Surely something so wonderful, something I'd longed after so long, could be nothing but a hopeless nightmare? But no, she was there. My eyes could just make out her figure beside me, and I sighed.

I wanted nothing more than to cast light on her features, drink them in before she could wake. I ran my fingers gently through the chocolate curls on my pillow and smiled slightly, a smile that was lost in the dark. I imagined what I would say to her when I woke. What would she say to me? The possibilities were endless, and I let my mind run away with them as I listened to her quiet breathing, so much like music.

If I were any gentleman, I would do something special for her...something to tell her how much she meant to me. Something simple, like making her breakfast, or buying her flowers...but both ideas were impossible. I had no food and no working kitchen, and as wanted as I was in these streets, I doubted anyone selling flowers on a street corner would hesitate in screaming for authorities.

My hand left her with the troubled thoughts that now clouded my mind and I sighed hopelessly. I couldn't do right by her...I would never be the kind of person she needed. I had no future, with so many people after me, a pathetic way of life, and a face that would never allow me to live in any community peacefully, like a respectful citizen deserved. That was all I ever wanted, just so I could give it to my Christine. I hated to disappoint her, but I couldn't stand to be the reason for her unhappiness. Not again...

For a moment I was taken over by jealousy for that boy...he could give her everything she wished. Why couldn't I have been given the chance to have a life remotely similar to his? He seemed to have it all...a name in the world, money...looks. I couldn't compete with that. I couldn't even walk down the street I lived in. I refused to bring Christine down with me. I could only imagine the way people would look and wonder about her if she stayed with me. Christine Daaé. The soprano in the midst of the mysterious Phantom of the Opera incident. That was enough to have her gain stares. She didn't need to add to it that she'd left that ridiculous Vicomte. Society wouldn't understand. He was so perfect in their eyes...

Was he still perfect in her eyes? A feeling much like ice slipped uncomfortably into my stomach at this thought. Could she possibly still love him? Surely not...not after last night.

I fell back into my old pessimistic ways, suddenly not able to believe what I wanted. I only believed what I'd been told the rest of my life. What I'd seen. She couldn't love me. No one ever would. I was unworthy, undeserving, doomed to live a life alone, dreaming and longing after what I knew I could never have for myself.

Would she wake thinking last night had been a mistake? Was it just one last night away from the world she was about to step into to reassure herself that she'd made the right decision in leaving me with the boy? Was she going to run back to him, begging him for forgiveness and never spare me another thought?

It had been so dark last night. I knew she would not have been able to see me at all. Had she forgotten just how hideous I actually was? It was possible. I hadn't seen her for what had been more than three extremely painful weeks, and she'd probably tried to block those thoughts from being fresh and present. What would she do when the sun rose? Roll toward me, not knowing where she was and scream at the sight of me? Would she feel the need to torture herself for being unfaithful to her fiance? Would she be horrified? Beg me to let her be free, to let her forget me and live her life as the Vicomtess of Chagny?

These were the only conclusions I could come to. Why would she want to stay with me? I couldn't give her anything, and I wasn't about to steal her away from the world so selfishly once more. She could be happy with him. She would live the rest of her life with the expensive things she deserved...a family she loved.

I had been a fool when I'd dreamed of a world where Christine and I could be together and wear smiles. Without knowing it, I'd imagined the two of us living as any other couple would; being accepted into a comfortable society around us and living for music, for each other.

That was just plain stupidity on my behalf. That would never be possible. I would never find a place where I was able to walk among men without being screamed at, tortured by words and violence, shunned from the streets...

I couldn't give anything to my beautiful Christine, and at that moment, I doubted she would want anything. Why take whatever I had to give her when she could recieve all that and more from someone who had been born perfect, who had lived in a perfect world, such as her fiance?

I took a long, shaky breath and felt my eyes sting with tears as I thought all of this through. I knew I would never forgive myself for what I did next, but I did it selfishly, in order to protect myself. I knew I wouldn't be able to continue living if Christine woke and claimed everything that had happened between us to be an awful mistake. If I woke to see doubt, sadness or horor in her eyes I knew my heart would break quicker than I would be able to run and save myself.

I slid swiftly out of the bed, gathered my clothes silently in the dark, and dressed quickly, my eyes constantly on the faint outline of the love of my life as she dreamed on. I picked up my mask from where it lay on the floor and secured it over my hideous face before retrieving the few other belongings I had and readying myself for my departure. I gave my love one last, long look, and decided I couldn't leave her with nothing. I picked up a sheet of music I had written just the day before and turned it over to the blank side, my fingers grasping a discarded pen from the small desk.

I wrote the short note slowly, wanting to stall myself for as long as I could. I was secretly wishing that she would wake, assure me that everything would be okay; that we would get through all of this and be happy together, but I knew that would never happen. There was a small part of me that wanted to leave, get out while I still could, leave her before she could break my heart worse than she ever had before.

I set the paper at the foot of the small bed and gazed at her longingly as I made my way closer, kneeling down beside her face. I brushed a lock of curls from in front of her closed eyes and pressed my lips to her forehead gently, pulling away as I felt a tear slip from my left eye and fall down my cheek.

"I'll never stop loving you, Angel." I told her through a whisper. "You'll be in my thoughts every day until I die. I just hope I don't haunt you in the same way."

And then I stood, gathered my belongings in my arms and left the run-down house, making my way to the Giry household before the sun could rise and the streets could become crowded. There was one being left in my entire life that I could depend on, and I hoped more than anything that she would listen to me in such a desperate time of my need.

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**I'll try to get the next chapter up in the next few days. It just depends on when I can steal my sister's laptop and type like crazy. :)**

**Chlowie, xo**


	3. Chapter 3

**I assumed I'd have this chapter up a couple of days ago, but was kept busy. Sorry for the wait!**

**Chryseis - your review was lovely! Thank you so much. :)**

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**CPOV**

When I woke in the morning the first thing I realised was red. I frowned without opening my eyes and put my hand over my face, black immediately taking its place. Red? Where was this coming from? I opened my eyes slowly and looked up, seeing for the first time the roof under which I slept. It was such a long way up...no wonder the building had looked so tall last night. It had obviously been abandoned for a while. The strange red colour that had confused me so was coming from one of the many holes in the roof. The strong sunlight was shining right through it and had been resting on my face. I swallowed thickly and rolled over, ignoring the old matress springs digging into me, out of the sun's reach, against Erik's pillow.

Erik. Just his name put a smile on my face and I reached out with my left hand to feel for him in the small bed beside me, but came up short. He must be up already.

Somewhere in my mind a small voice was telling me I ought to be ashamed of myself; worried about what was to happen now. Should I find Raoul and tell him the wedding was off, or just stay away while Clara told him I'd gone missing during the night? What lay ahead for my future with Erik? Were we staying in Paris? Surely not, what with all of the talk of the Phantom of the Opera going around. I'd found it almost impossible to walk down the street with Raoul in broad daylight from all the stares and questioning I recieved from the people around me. Yes, most of Paris believed the Phantom to have burned within the walls of the opera house weeks ago, but that did not mean he didn't haunt the lives and conversations of almost everyone in town. He was fascinating, exciting, something to disctract them from their boring day-to-day lives.

But where would we go? I'd never been anywhere from Paris, other than Sweden, of course. Thoughts of returning to my original home were enough to have me smiling happily to myself. I could show Erik all of the places my father had made special for me. We could live by the sea...and whenever we were out, enjoying the water in front of us, I would _not_ wear scarves.

Or perhaps Erik new of different places. I knew he hadn't spent his entire life beneath the opera house, but I didn't know where he'd been beforehand. Actually, come to think of it, I hardly knew anything about him at all! I frowned at my ignorance and pushed myself up, onto my arms to get a better view of the room. As I did so I realised how sore my body was, and gasped quietly. Hopefully he would be understanding enough to let me spend the entire day in bed...

"Erik?" I called, hoping he would march through the door on the other side of the room and greet me with a good morning kiss. I looked around the room as I waited for him, frowning at how sad it looked. It wasn't homely at all. In fact, the only way I could tell Erik had been here before was the messy pile of music sheets on the small desk in the corner and on the floor around it. I could see the dark lines made by his hand, creating beautiful music on the bare pieces of paper. I called his name again, but recieved no answer, so sighed and pushed myself up further into a sitting position. I mussed my tangled hair and pushed it out of my eyes, looking down at my dress and cloak on the floor beside the bed. I bit my lip as I realised I had no corset. What was I going to wear when Erik and I had to leave? I knew I would feel extremely uncomfortable without the proper undergarments...

After calling him for the third time, I swung my legs out of bed - ever so carefully - and pointed my feet, hoping my aching muscles would relax soon enough. I reached down to gather my most simple dress (I had put it on in a hurry last night) and pulled it over my head and shoulders, slipping my arms through it before completely standing and stretching my arms above my head. Yes, I was sore, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I wandered from the bed to the only door in the room and pushed it open gently. There was a small flight of stairs in front of me that lead to the entrance I had walked throught the night before. Had Erik carried me up those stairs without me realising?

I tip-toed down the stairs, hoping to find him in another room at the bottom, but there was only one room, and I could tell just by peering in that it was completely empty. Where was he? I huffed, a little disappointed. I'd expected to wake up in his arms and have him kiss me and tell me he loves me. I was going to tell him I loved him, too, and that I never wanted to think of Raoul again, and pull his lips back down to mine before we sorted out our new lives together. Now it looked like I was going to have to wait and have a not-so-romantic reunion with him when he got home.

...but where had he gone? I stared at the front door for a moment before turning and making my way back up the stairs. He couldn't have just been marching around Paris. There was a description of him out - with thanks to my _darling_ fiancé - and he had almost completely occupied the Parisian citizens minds since I'd left him. No, he wasn't foolish enough to be spending the day out...though, he was tricky. For years he'd been hiding himself from me. I knew it was a foolish thing of me to say, but a lot of the time I thought of his actions to be nothing but pure magic.

I sat at the foot of the small bed, hearing it creak under my weight. Had it been that noisy last night? I chewed on my bottom lip, my ears straining as I listened for him to enter through the door, march up the stairs and greet me, but the sound didn't come. After five minutes or so, I began to look around the room. It was only then that I realised there was a sheet of music on the bed, between where I was now and where I'd been only minutes ago. I frowned and picked it up, looking at it carefully. It was unfamiliar to me, so I hummed it to myself. It was so sad. So, so, sad. As I held it up, I noticed there were dark lines coming through from the opposite side of the paper. I turned it over and what I saw made my heart stop.

_My Dearest Angel,  
Please forgive me.  
Erik_

I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the paper. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! No, this wasn't happening. My hands began shaking, and I looked around the room, trying to find evidence that he was coming back. But there wasn't anything, except the paper. Moments ago, I'd found it strange that that was all there was, but now I wondered if there _had _been more, and he'd taken it with him...

I was having trouble breathing by this point and put a hand to my unsupported chest. Thank goodness for not wearing a corset, because I was sure I would have passed out by now had I been. I looked over the paper in my hand, looking for more of his writing, but came up short. There wasn't any more. Just those seven little words that had left me with a hole in my heart.

He wasn't coming back. Erik had left me, and he wasn't coming back. I knew if I went out looking for him, I would never be able to find him. Looking for Erik was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. For years I had searched high and low for him whilst I'd been living in the opera house, growing from a child into a young lady, but I'd never succeeded in finding his hide away. Erik knew how to cloak himself from the prying eyes of the world, and if he was trying to hide himself, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Then I was struck with a wonderful idea. An idea that eased my breathing a little; that kept me sane and conscious. Madame Giry! She seemed to be the only person Erik came close to trusting, and I knew if I could ask anyone about where he would be hiding himself away, it would be her. I could go to their house and...get caught. Get seen messing around by someone who was attending the wedding and was suspiscious about why the Vicomte's fiancée was wondering the streets of Paris, knocking on seemingly unimportant doors and, of all things, not wearing a corset. I sighed at the impossible position I was in, but knew I had to try. I wasn't about to give up, no matter how much I wanted to just fall back against this bed and cry myself to the point of exhaustion.

I mopped up the tears that were falling from my chin with the end of one of my curls and stood from the bed, folding Erik's goodbye note in the process. I pulled my cloak over my shoulders and wrapped myself in it in a way that hid my natural figure, holding to the letter tightly under the safety of the thick grey material. Without looking back at the room, without remembering the wonderful night that had taken place there only hours ago, without thinking about the aches that were present with each step I took, I marched down the stairs, taking one more comforting breath before opening the door and stepping out, onto the street. I didn't look at anyone as I passed them, but that did not mean that I couldn't tell they were staring at me. I pulled my hood over my head and kept moving, back toward the Giry house.

When I arrived I almost flew up the steps and knocked desperately on their front door. Madame Giry would surely have some idea of where he was. And if she didn't find it appropriate to tell me, I would tell her I loved him. She cared for him didn't she? Of course she would...

After minutes of knocking, louder than was appropriate, I took a couple of helpless steps back, looking up at the house and wondering what to do now. They weren't home. And I didn't have the slightest idea of where to look for them, either. I had only ever known them to be at the opera house. Then I remembered about the wedding. Meg and her mother were both attending, they'd let me know on numerous occasions. I could catch them before the ceremony and ask them then, slipping out before Raoul was any the wiser. Yes! That's what I'd do. And once I was with Erik again, and he'd promised me our lives together, I'd go back to Raoul and tell him we couldn't happen. It was wrong. For the first time, I was realising how I was not, in fact happy. For the last few weeks I'd been lonely in his huge house, waiting for him to finish with his work and spend time with me. Most days, when he had completed his work, he had business partners or old friends or relatives visiting, so even then all I would have to do was sit by him and look pretty, not saying much in fear of embarrassing myself.

I tore back to the cottage, my hood still over my face and my arms still wrapped tightly around myself. The mansion beside my tiny little cottage cast a shadow over me as I approached the house, and for a moment I began to panic. If things went badly today, that could possibly be my new home...

No. I was firm with myself with the next thought. Even if I did speak to Madame Giry and she had no idea of Erik's whereabouts, I wasn't going to continue living a lie with Raoul. I'd been doing it too long without realising it, and now that I knew, I was sure I would never be able to live with myself in a life I didn't enjoy. I loved Raoul, but I loved Erik so, so much more, and in such a different way. Yes, Raoul was charming and handsome and rich and, at times, a gentleman, but when he held me and kissed me, all I felt was him trying to make me realise I felt something for him. His hands were firm and sure of themselves and they _told _me that I should enjoy what he was doing to me, when in reality, most of the time I was uncomfortable with his actions. Last night, every movement Erik made with me had sent me into a frenzy, and most of the time I was almost completely delirious with happiness and feelings that I would never, ever be able to explain to myself.

If Madame Giry didn't know where he was, I was going to ask to move in with her. She'd taken me in once before, and I was sure she would again. We were like family now. And it would only be until I found Erik, or got a job and a home of my own. I cringed at the latter of the two thoughts. Even if I did start a new life on my own, I would never stop searching for Erik. Last night, for the first time since I'd lost my father, I'd felt whole. All those years I'd been walking around, feeling incomplete and broken, and I'd hardly known.

I tried to sneak inside, but Clara and a few of the other maids rushed to the door when they heard it open. All of them let out sighs of relief and Clara's hands wrapped themselves around my shoulders as she pushed me toward the bathroom.

"Miss Daaé! You had us all worried sick! Where have you been? We were worrying about having to tell the Master his bride had run away!"

I apologised quietly as I slid into an almost cold bath, doing my best to hide my body from them in case of any evidence on my skin that would give away where I was this morning and lost myself in my thoughts. I was trying not to think too much of Erik, not knowing when the next time I would see him was going to be. It could be weeks...

Once they were finished with me and my skin was smelling sweeter than it ever had they wrapped a large, fluffy towel around me and sat me in a chair in the drawing room, brushing the water out of my curls until they were dry enough to style. Two women stood, pulling at my hair behind me while I did my best not to cringe at their rough hands, while another was powdering my face and holding different lip colours up to my face. I could see Clara making sure my dress was perfect on the edge of the room, and I resisted the urge to moan.

Whenever I imaged myself getting married, my dress had always been the same - pure white, with sleeves of lace and a bodice that hugged my figure tightly, creating the perfect shape with a skirt that billowed from my waist around me, giving me a similar image to that of how I imagined the princesses from stories my father used to read me when I was young. This dress, however, had belonged to Raoul's mother, and his grandmother, and now it was my turn to wear it.

I expected the dress had once been white, but now the material was mostly yellowing, with the exceptions of cream patches that had been sewn in more recently to work as repairs or make the dress look as modern as possible. It was almost the complete opposite from my dream dress, with plain sleeves that were too tight, an uncomfortably high neckline and a skirt that fell straight to the ground, making me feel more like an old maid than a princess. I had seen myself in the dress once before, and had been surprised that I had, in fact, looked beautiful in it, but it just hadn't been what I'd expected. I'd been too polite to say anything about wanting my own dress, or my slight dislike at what I had...even after Raoul's mother had made her comments.

I had been standing in this very room, in my corset and bloomers, my dress and petticoats thrown over the chair beside me as the old woman wrapped a tape measure around my chest, hips and waist.

"Twenty-two," she tsked, holding the tape measure up to her eyes from my waist. I raised an eyebrow, as if asking for a problem, and she sighed, standing straight. "I suppose we can't all have an eighteen inch waist...Clara, it will have to be taken out a little."

I'd lowered my eyes to the floor and reached for my petticoats without saying anything. Raoul's mother had never necessarily said anything _rude_ to me, but she did have a tendancy to make me feel like I was constantly in the wrong. On two occasions, my temper had broken and I'd snapped, but nothing had been said about it. I didn't think Raoul had noticed, but his mother had given me a superior look that had shut me up. I didn't do it anymore, knowing she would only make my life hell for as long as she could.

"Time to dress, Miss Daaé." Clara said, holding out the dress in front of me. I sighed and stood from the chair I'd taken refuge in, all imaginings slipping from my mind as the maids took my towel, tightened my corset, and pulled the wedding dress carefully over my head.

"Ingrid," I turned to the blonde maid who had powdered my face and she jumped, as if my speaking to her had shocked her. "Would you mind going out to the garden and looking for Madame and Miss Giry for me?"

"Yes, Miss Daaé," she murmured before slipping into the hall. I relaxed a little when I heard the front door close. They would be here within a few minutes. I would know where Erik was soon. I would be back in his arms tonight. And tomorrow...we would begin our new lives together.

The wedding was being held in the beautiful gardens behind Raoul's Family's mansion. While I loved the gardens, I couldn't help but feel a little upset. I'd always wished for myself getting married in a beautiful church. When I was young, I'd spent so many hours with my father as he showed me the few photos he had of my mother; all four of them were from their wedding, and the church had looked so beautiful behind them as they posed for the photos. Since realising how happy they'd been at the thoughts of getting to spend the rest of their lives together, I knew that was what I'd wanted, too. But now it wasn't happening.

"We must be going, Miss Daaé." Clara said softly when a few minutes had passed. I held up my hand in silence, waiting for Ingrid to return. When I heard the front door open, I leaned forward anxiously, but Ingrid was the only person to meet me.

"I could not find the Girys, Miss Daaé. Perhaps they're late?"

"Are you sure you know who you were looking for?" I asked, a little frustrated. Was I going to have to speak to them on my way down the aisle?

"Yes, Miss Daaé. And I asked around in case people had seen them, but they haven't arrived yet."

"It's time," Clara tried again. My eyebrows pulled together painfully as my stomach churned. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Surely some miracle would occur and I would be rescued from this impossible occurance. Surely God would have mercy on me and show me some kindness...even after my sins of the night previously.

"One moment, please," I bowed my head and walked quickly to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I dropped to my knees in the ancient wedding dress in front of the bedside desk and looked at the only two photographs I had desperately, hoping more at that moment than at any other that my father was watching over me. The first frame held a photo of him, taken a couple of years before he'd passed away. The other held the only picture of my parents marriage that I'd been able to save; my parents watching each other, their arms looped tightly. I could see the joy in their eyes, and felt tears slip down my face at the thought that if the planned events of today were going to happen, I would not be feeling the same way.

"Please," I whispered, looking into my father's eyes. "Be here for me today. Help me. I'm lost." I sobbed. I tried my best to stop the tears from shedding, but it was impossible. Once I'd gotten as best a hold on myself as I could manage, I stood and crossed to the door, being met with just Clara on the other side.

"I'll walk you up," she insisted, holding out her arm as if I looked especially unstable.

As soon as we left the cottage, I could see the crowd of people waiting for me. Some were looking back, over their shoulders as I approached, and I could see the smiles on their faces, reminding me that this was a happy occasion. But as I looked around at each person sitting in the chairs under the shelter that had been set up for today, not being able to catch a glimpse of my best friend and second mother, I felt anything but happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**I am sorry about the wait! I've been super busy with school. Just posting this as quickly as I can, then I'm off to be ****Éponine ****for the morning. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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The ceremony seemed longer than I knew it really was. For the first half, my eyes skittered around every one of our guests, hoping that I'd just missed Madame Giry and Meg, but I knew that they were not there. They'd promised to be here for me today, but that was not the case. Out of what seemed to be the hundreds of guests we had, they had been the only two that I had actually invited, though Raoul had done his best to pass off some of his guests as mine, and they hadn't shown up.

The three most important people in my life had turned their backs on me and disappeared today, and though I felt helpless and pathetic as I stood in front of everyone, tears falling down my cheeks every now and then, I was in too much of a state to break down. I simply did not think about what was happening. I was finding it difficult to concentrate, and suspected I was a little delirious. Being the good actress that I was, I was able to force a smile on my face, and Raoul grinned back to me, believing it every second and mistaking my tears of despair to be those of joy.

I had to admit, he did look handsome. But it felt wrong to be standing before him, hand in hand, with the memory of what I had done the night previously. Still, I did not feel guilty, but I knew Raoul did not deserve that kind of treatment from the woman he loved. Something inside me said I was pitiful to be this dishonest and stand with him as though everything was right in the world; how could I do that? I should pull him away for a moment and tell him what had happened, dealing with the consequences! But I was scared. I had no where to go. I had no family, and the only people who I considered my family hadn't even come to my wedding.

The only person I had was Raoul. I had no money to my name, no place to live, and now that the opera house was no longer standing, nothing to do with my life. The only thing I was good for was singing, and I could tell that all I was going to feel when singing from now on was emptiness knowing that my tutor was not around to hear me.

But I couldn't let these dark thoughts cloud my mind any longer. God wasn't this cruel. Though, I admitted, I'd done the wrong thing, I knew He wouldn't keep me in this abyss for much longer. He would forgive me and put a smile on my face. I was sure of it. Perhaps Erik would make an entrance into my life within days, and I could explain to Raoul that I was not happy with him (leaving out everything to do with Erik, of course) and calmly the both of us could organise a gentle way to ease out of such a messy marriage? Then Erik and I could disappear forever more and hide away from a world of disapproval, creating our own symphony of happiness...

So there I was, fantasising about my life with another man as I stood beside my new husband at our wedding. Even our first kiss as husband and wife hadn't been pleasant for me. His lips weren't gentle, and too confident, and forced my mouth open in a way that made me uncomfortable in front of his friends and family. I felt as though I were just there to look good...as if this whole ceremony was just for Raoul. It certainly seemed that way. After the ceremony, our guests congratulated the both of us before engaging in long conversations with him. It made me feel like an outsider, even at my own wedding. They never had anything to say to me, and when I tried to make my way into their conversation, they switched subjects as though I had ruined the old one for them. At times they made me feel stupid, as I was just an actress and would not be able to understand the important lives they lead as businessmen. Raoul didn't notice my discomfort, and chatted happily with his guests, his arm around my waist a lot of the time, as if my being there was enough for him. I knew it was perfectly enough. No one wanted me getting in on their conversations, and though I tried to be there as best I could for Raoul, I could feel myself slipping away.

There were moments where I would wonder if I'd completely blacked out. When I thought back over where my mind had just been, I couldn't put my finger on what had taken my attention. It was as if my brain had just shut down from the pain and frustration of the day's events. When Raoul repeated my name as we sat for dinner, I blamed my pensive behaviour on exhaustion. Yes, I was exhausted, but not mentally like I had him believe. He accepted my excuse anyhow and continued to be a perfect newleywed husband as I did my best to keep up my façade as a happy wife beside him.

As the sun began to set, the two of us danced for an audience of our guests. I know it was a horrible thing for me to do, but I tried my hardest to imagine Erik's arms around me as I pressed my face into Raoul's chest. It didn't work. They were two different people, and I wasn't able to fool myself for one minute.

"You look beautiful, Christine." Raoul told me softly. I broke away from his chest to give him a small smile.

"Thank you, Raoul." I might not have been in love with him the way I thought I had been only yesterday, but I was going to try for him. He deserved that. I'd told him that I loved him, promised myself to him, and now we were married. I knew if I ever did find Erik, it would be almost too difficult to get out of this now. But perhaps I really could fall in love with Raoul? Then it wouldn't matter...I could forget Erik for good. Live the life I'd planned with Raoul and be happy with him. Erik didn't need to have any place in my life at all...

I stopped with these new trains of thoughts immediately. It was too new, too painful to think that way.

All too soon, our guests began leaving and Raoul suggested we retire back to my new home. I looked up at the mansion, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. Thoughts of what were to happen when we got there made my knees feel week, and not in a good way.

I followed him silently up the staircase and into his room for the first time. It was a nice room. There was a large mirror against the right hand wall, a bed bigger than any I had ever slept in at the center of the room and double doors on the left side of the room that opened onto a small balcony, overlooking the garden.

"Welcome to your new life, Vicomtess." Raoul chirped happily beside me. I moved slowly into the room, still in awe at the beauty of it, but when I turned to get a better look at what was behind me, Raoul's hands caught my shoulders and his mouth fell onto mine roughly.

I gasped and pressed my hands against his chest, trying not to let him move any closer to me, but he didn't seem to realise and I wasn't strong enough to hold him back on my own.

"I love you, Christine," he whispered, his hands running down the sides of my wedding dress, making me flinch against him. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

I tried, for Raoul. He deserved it. I was the one who had been in the wrong, and he didn't need to know I didn't feel for him like I'd sworn to him I did. And though we were now married, something just didn't feel right. His lips and hands felt wrong, as if I shouldn't be doing this with him, where as Erik's had felt so perfect I hadn't even had to think through what we were doing. But each time Raoul touched me or kissed me I had to resist the urge of pulling away. I told myself I wouldn't let him know I was well past having second thoughts, but as I felt the matress under my back and his hands at the buttons on the back of my dress, I knew I couldn't go through with this. I froze up, and still Raoul didn't seem to realise something was wrong.

"Raoul...Raoul, please," I pushed my hands against his chest and waited until he heard me and pulled back, giving me a confused look.

"Christine?"

"I'm sorry," I sat up and put my face in my hands, wondering what to say now. I was a terrible wife. I couldn't even go through with our commitment on our wedding night.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a gentle tone as he kneeled down in front of me and took my left hand in both of his. "Is everything alright?"

How was I to tell him I felt guilty at the thought of making love to my own husband? That was something that was not supposed to happen. Raoul had every right to take me right now, and still, I couldn't find the idea of it anything but horrible and wrong. I felt as though I was betraying Erik...and that was stupid.

"I think I need some time." I said softly. Yes, time! That was it. I could get over this. By tomorrow night I would realise again how perfect Raoul is for me, and Erik would have completely left my mind, and I would spend the rest of my life being blissfully happy with my new husband.

"Time," he repeated slowly. He kept watching me, as if waiting for me to say something else, but I just nodded. It took him a few moments to say anything else, but when he did he stood and sat on the bed beside me.

"Time," he said again. His voice sounded strange...as if he were forcing the words out. "That's fine...the wedding did come around quickly. And I love you more than anything else in the world, Christine. I can wait for you. I'll wait with you."

I nodded, trying to thank him, but for some reason it didn't seem like something I should do. I felt the overwhelming urge to cry, but I wouldn't do that in front of Raoul, so I held back my tears and apologised quietly as his fingers ran through my hair, tugging gently at the knots in my curls which had been pulled down from his aggressiveness only moments before.

"I'll...go and wash up. I'll be back soon, okay? You know where the bathroom is if you need me."

I nodded and waited for him to leave the room before standing and frustratedly rubbing my face with my hands. This was not how this was supposed to go! What if someone found out I'd denied him? Would they care? I knew how quickly word got around through the staff of my husband's household, and I only hoped Raoul would keep it to himself. I would make things right. Tomorrow night. We would be on our honeymoon by then. Everything would be fine. I was just still in a state from what had happened with -

No. I wouldn't think about him anymore. That was only making it more difficult for me to accept Raoul, like I _ought_ to be doing. If making Raoul happy meant pushing _him_ completely out of my life, that was what I was going to do. I was married now. I had a right to abide by my husband, and I wasn't about to go against God and yearn for someone else...someone who had left me.

I dressed into my nightgown and gathered my thoughts on the small balcony, the cool breeze comforting me immediately. Then, before Raoul could make his appearance, crossed to the bed and slipped under the covers, hoping to get to sleep before he came back. I didn't manage, but pretended nonetheless. I heard him mutter something bitter about sleeping with the doors open, but kept my eyes closed as I listened to him change into his sleepwear. I concentrated on steadying my breathing and felt the bed beside me sink from his weight. His fingers lingered over my face for a few moments, and I was hoping he wouldn't try to wake me up, but then he sighed and through my eyelids I could see the room turn to darkness as he extinguished the lamp beside our bed and fell to sleep himself.

}~*~{

I woke the next morning to an empty bed and wonderd where Raoul had gotten to. Was he angry at me? I sat up and looked around the beautiful room for a moment longer and the door swung open, an older maid walking in with a tray of breakfast.

"Good morning, Vicomtess." she greeted me chirpily. I did my best to smile and she set the tray down in front of me. "Someone will be up to dress you in a few moments. The master's back to work already, bless him. Trying to get things done before your honeymoon. You'll be having lunch at noon before you leave."

"Thank you," I murmured, feeling my heart sink. Raoul had gotten up early to attend to work...had he not wanted to see me?

The morning passed slowly. I insisted to the maids that I was perfectly able to dress myself, but they insisted on helping me with the new and expensive dresses Raoul had purchased for me until I looked presentable. I spent a lot of time in the small library at the end of the hall on the second floor. It was usually deserted, so I was able to sit in one of the comfortable chairs and look out, over the garden with a book in my lap.

I thought about singing. Usually when I was alone in this huge house, I would sing to keep myself company, but after waking alone yesterday morning, it didn't feel right. Singing always brought back thoughts of _him, _and I wasn't ready to break down and tell Raoul I couldn't love him. I wouldn't do that to him.

Lunch was even more painful than I expected. Raoul did seem a little angry at me, as I didn't recieve one smile the entire time. Thankfully we were alone at the table, and the maids hovering around us didn't seem to realise anything was wrong.

"How's your work?" I asked, trying desperately to break the silence.

"Fine," he answered. "You don't have to act interested in what I do, Christine. I know you don't understand."

"If you talk to me about it I might be able to." I insisted hopefully. If we had more in common, things could go a lot smoother... "I'd love to be able to talk to you about your day."

He paused through drinking his tea and pulled the cup from his mouth as if he'd remembered something.

"Andre and Firmin spoke to me for a while yesterday -"

"Yes, thank you so much for letting me know they'd be attending." I said sarcastically. I'd felt shocked and hurt seeing them there after all that had happened, and Raoul hadn't even let me know they would be there. "And Carlotta, of all people, Raoul! Why?"

"And they told me," he pressed, speaking over me. "That they would be willing to have you back at the opera house as soon as everything is up to scratch again."

_Be willing to have me? _It sounded as though I was a problem people wished not to be burdened with. I sat back in my chair and tried not to think about his words. "No. I won't accept."

"Thank goodness," he sighed, setting his teacup down. "After all that's happened, I don't think I'd want you in the midst of all of that again. I'm keeping my eye on you from now on." he meant it as a joke, but I didn't smile, which made him continue speaking. "And I hope you treated Carlotta as a guest yesterday. I can only imagine how tough a time she's been having since that monster -"

I dropped my knife, causing a loud clattering sound to erupt through the room and Raoul's eyes narrowed at me for a moment before he stood. "I'll get my things. We shouldn't keep our ride waiting."

I nodded silently and waited a few moments before following after him.

The place Raoul had chosen for our honeymoon was only a couple of hours away. It was a small white cottage under the shelter of a low, but wide tree that hung its ever-red leaves over the building, as if acting as a second roof to the welcoming home.

"Raoul, this is beautiful."

"And not too far from home, should anything happen that requires my attention."

I sighed to myself. Raoul, constantly worrying about his work. If I were going to try to block everything I knew outside of my husband from my mind for these next couple of days, the least I could ask for was for Raoul to do the same.

"Raoul," he turned to me with his eyebrows raised as two men carried our luggage inside. "Please, Raoul, can't we just forget everything but the both of us? At least just for today. All I want to concentrate on is starting our new life together."

His eyes softened and he picked up my hands, kissing them gently. "Of course, Lotte. I'm sorry. I was being ignorant."

"Let's begin now." I decided quietly. He grinned and kissed me for a few moments, and I tried not to think about the possibility of people around us seeing. When he released me, he took my hand, and pulled me slowly to our home for the next two days.

It was just as lovely on the inside, with a comfortable lounge and armchair, a cosy fireplace pushed to the side of the sitting room, a case that reached the roof, full of books. There was also a sunbed pushed against a wall almost completely made of windows and a small round table with four chairs.

"Rather small," Raoul remarked. I shook my head, grinninhg.

"It's lovely. So homely,"

"You like it?" he turned to me immediately, honestly curious for my answer. I just nodded, and he began to smile. "Then I guess it will do."

The afternoon passed comfortably. Raoul studied the newspaper, stroking my hair every now and then as I lost myself in one of the borrowed books. When it became too dark for us to read the small print by the light of the fire, we resorted to just speaking in hushed tones.

"I'm going to have a bath," I murmured once the sun had set completely. Raoul didn't answer; just kissed me quickly. During the day, I'd gotten used to the way he would constantly show his affection toward me without any warning, so was able to react quickly, as though nothing was wrong.

I stood from my place beside him and made my way giddily to the small bathroom through the door near the fireplace. It was all starting to sink in; I was married. I was a wife now. I looked at myself in the round mirror on the wall before undressing, studying my features solemnly. I didn't look or feel any older than seventeen. It was difficult to believe that only months ago I'd been treated and made believe I was still a child. Perhaps that was why it was so hard for me to believe the events of yesterday had truly happened...

When I'd finished washing, I dressed in my favourite nightgown from the bag I'd left in the bathoom earlier. I hesitated in leaving too soon. I knew what Raoul expected, and I also knew sooner or later I would have to give myself to him, but for some strange reason I kept holding onto the hope that it would be later. Much, much later. When a certain ghost who haunted my mind would at long last leave me be and let me concentrate on my new life.

I shook my head, glaring at my reflection. _Just Raoul. There's only Raoul in the whole world. If you'd never known better, you wouldn't be denying your husband, would you?_

Of course not. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself what I had to do, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I could feel my heartbeating in my throat and tried to keep my hands from shaking at my sides. Raoul wasn't in the sitting room anymore, but as I was looking around his head appeared from the double doors I knew to lead to our bedroom. "Christine," he motioned for me to join him, and as I came to stand beside him I gasped.

"Oh, Raoul,"

"I was wondering when you were going to come back to me."

He must have lit twenty candles, at the least. They decorated the entire room, casting a golden glow over my husband and myself in the otherwise dark room.

_Just Raoul._

The thought pulsed through my mind, and before I even had the chance to stop myself, I raised up, onto my toes and pushed my lips against his. He responded immediately, taking the dress I'd worn that day out of my arms and hanging it blindly over the back of a chair before lifting to my feet and setting me back down on the bed behind us.

_Just Raoul._

I continued to kiss him, pushing myself on further and further. And why shouldn't I? He'd done all of this to make me happy tonight. And we'd just spent a wonderful afternoon together...I really was incredibly lucky to have him.

I felt him slip the sleeves of my gown from my shoulders and they hung loosely around my elbows as I pushed myself farther against him, trying not to focus on the uncomfortable fact that I was half-exposed in front of him for the first time. Why hadn't this been a problem the other night with -

_Just Raoul._

My fingers tightened around the edges of his coat as I forced myself to continue. _Enjoy it, Christine._ I thought bitterly. _This man is your husband. He loves you. And you love him._

Neither of us spoke. Raoul took control, which relieved me immediately. I may not have been exactly new to this, but I still didn't have an idea of what I was doing. The last time had passed in a blur, everything being so natural and just picking me up and carrying me on the flow of the tide. Tonight, however, I was conscious of every little thing, not just the man before me.

It also hurt. A lot more than I had been expecting. I was still sore from two nights previous, but even then I hadn't cried out like I did this time. I gripped Raoul's shoulders as he continued, seemingly not giving my pain any thought, and tried to clear my mind, but it was becoming worse and worse.

As if my physical pain wasn't enough, I managed to feel guilt; and not the appropriate kind. I felt guilt that I was letting someone undeserving take me in a way that should only be meant for one person. Could that only be because Raoul was the second to have me? I told myself it shouldn't matter. Raoul was my husband. He was welcome to my whole being.

After only a few moments, I cried out again, and couldn't resist throwing my hands against his chest to get him off me. He paused for a moment, then left me to stand beside the bed. "Christine?"

I swallowed thickly, trying not to let my tears spill over. What could I say to him now? Sorry, but I have no desire for you? I bit my lip. I could just tell him the truth - partly -; that he should have been more gentle with me; that he'd hurt me.

I did the only thing I could do. I tried to stop him from hating me as much as he probably should have. "I didn't mean to -to..." I couldn't really think up the next words, so we both just lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as I pulled my dark hair, still wet from my bath, over my shoulders, trying to hide myself as much as I could.

Raoul was watching me carefully with a small frown on his face the entire time. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I didn't allow myself to look up at him. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke. "Christine," he waited until I made eye contact with him, still looking as though he wouldn't allow himself to believe his own thoughts. "Have you..." he trailed off as well, shaking his head, and I looked away immediately, knowing what must have been running through his head.

He knew. He'd been able to tell I hadn't saved myself for him. I tried to breathe steadily, but I was terrified. What was he going to do now? Would he kick me out of the cottage, making me find my own way home? Could I even go home? Surely he would get there before me and let the entire mansion know I was untrue and was not allowed back inside...

While I was caught up in my thoughts Raoul dressed into his nightwear. I slowly gazed back up at him, but he had his back to me as he began to extinguish the candles. I picked up my discarded nightgown and pulled it back over my head, lowering my eyes to the blanket beneath me and waiting for Raoul to administer my punishment.

It never came. Soon enough, the room was completely dark, and I felt Raoul sink into bed beside me. I waited for him to say goodnight, but his snores greeted me first, and I slipped under the blanket myself and closed my eyes, praying to God sleep would come fast, and with it, dreams about anything other than my marriage.

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**Reviews would be absolutely wonderful!**

**Chlowie, xo**


	5. Chapter 5

**Good news: I've gotten ideas for Christine and Erik's reunion. Now I'm really excited to begin writing it and want to get through this stuff in between as quickly as possible!**

**Hope everyone is still enjoying this. I'm sick and can't sing, so there's not much to do at the moment except for write.**

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Raoul had taken a place at the small table in the next room when I woke in the morning. Without dressing, I stood from the bed, took a couple of deep breaths, and made my way out to him. I had to face him eventually, and it would do me no good to hide in the bedroom until we left that afternoon - our honeymoon was going to be cut short due to the amount of work which had piled up on my new husband immediately after our wedding. I'd known this would happen before our marriage, and had assumed it would annoy me, but I was honestly slightly relieved.

My heart was erratic in my chest as I silently took a seat across from him and began buttering cold toast from the plate in the middle of the table. After a long, painfully silent moment, I cleared my throat gently. "Good morning, Raoul."

His eyes flicked to my face over the top of his paper, as if he'd only just realised I was there. "Christine,"

I chewed on my bottom lip as he stared me down, a strange expression I couldn't place on his face. I took a quick breath and began to launch into an explanation with no idea where it was headed. "I'm sorry about last ni-"

"Let's not talk about it." Raoul said quickly. I stopped, frowning.

"What?"

He folded the newspaper and set it down in his lap before taking my right hand and giving me a slightly comforting look. "We don't have to talk about this, Christine. It must be hard for you. I'm sorry I acted so inconsiderately toward you last night. I should have known better." he said all of this with a sad smile on his face, looking more sympathetic than anything.

I was staring right back at him with an expression half-confused, half-horrified. What on earth was happening?

"I...thank you, Raoul." he kissed my forehead and stood from the table, filling my cup with tea.

"Any time you're ready, Lotte. I'm not going to pressure you into anything."

We didn't have much to say to each other for the rest of the day. I was still baffled over our exchange from breakfast, and Raoul seemed to be giving me space. I just had no idea why, but decided just to accept it. I let myself lean against his chest and have a small nap on the way back to my new home, and when I woke we'd stopped in front of the unnecessarily big house.

I forced my most convincing smile anytime one of the bolder maids asked how our trip had gone, and each of them grinned back, believing my lie.

That night, things went just as badly as they had before. Before he'd even started at the buttons on my dress, I'd flinched against Raoul's touch, and this time he did seem to notice. He sighed and pulled his hands from me as if I had a disease, pacing the room in front of me.

"Raoul, I'm -"

"It's okay, Chrstine." he sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry." I said in a tiny voice.

My husband paused for a few more moments before taking his coat off the foot of our bed and gliding to the door. "I have someone to see. I'll be back before too long."

I stood from my place, leaning forward to kiss him goodbye, but he pulled the door closed in my face. I huffed and unbuttoned the back of my dress before pulling my nightgown on, then opened the doors to the balcony and wandered out to lean against the railings.

I was unhappy. There was no denying that. But I still hoped things would be able to come together quick enough and we would be happy. All I had to do was forget about Erik, then I could concentrate wholly on Raoul.

By the fifth night of our marriage, Raoul seemed to have given up on me. He dressed into his pyjamas silently and slid beneath the covers beside me without even checking to see if I was awake. The night after I'd been reading in the chair by the desk and he'd said a quick goodnight before falling to sleep. Our conversations during the day were short and uninteresting, and I knew Raoul was getting tired of my behaviour. But even so, I couldn't bring myself to commit the way I know I should have.

There were two nights where I'd waited up to talk to him and he'd come home late, smelling of alcohol. I decided not to commence with any talk with him because he'd been snappy and short with me, and I didn't need to get into an argument with him. When I tried to begin a conversation with him while he was sober almost two weeks into our marriage, he dismissed it by saying nothing was wrong and I had nothing to worry about; he loved me, and wanted us to take our time. Though his words were kind, his tone was not, and I could not help but worry.

Then, two and a half weeks after our marriage I woke, as usual, to an empty room. Raoul was working, obviously. I lay there for a few moments, soaking up the sunlight through the open drapes in front of the window. Since the wedding, I'd practised dulling my mind. It had been working. There were moments when I'd try to look back on days and realised I'd forgotten extensive amounts of time. It was as though I were falling into unconsciousness and only waking for parts of the day that I needed to be around for. I knew that this was no way to live, but it didn't bother me. When my mind was working, I only thought about how miserable I was.

I continued to enjoy the comfort of my new bed for a few moments longer until an uncomfortable feeling took over me and I bounded out of the covers, toward the bathroom across the hall.

Ingrid, the blonde maid who had helped me prepare for the wedding, found me about five minutes later, hunched over the basin as I emptied my stomach. She held my hair out of my eyes, secured it with a pin from the collar of her dress and began to rub my back.

"Not feeling too well, Madame?"

"No, well, I _did _feel fine -" I said, pausing only to be sick again. "Just until I realised I was going to be sick. I don't think it's anything to worry about, Ingrid. I probably just ate something I shouldn't have."

"Do you need a day of rest, Madame?"

"No, I should be fine, thank you, Ingrid. But if you wouldn't mind drawing me a bath? I'm going to clean myself up, then read for a while." or just go to the library and stare forlornly out the window...

"Of course, Madame."

I was tossing over telling Raoul that I'd been sick or not. I could tell he was frustrated with me most of the time, and I knew if I told him I was sick it would lessen his thoughts of how attractive I was. If he were sane, he wouldn't want to be with me until I was healthy again. Then again, I didn't know how I was going to bring it up to him. Usually our meals were silent as he looked over his work and I pretended that I didn't care about his ignorance toward me.

The next morning the same thing happened. Ingrid found me once again during her rounds of replacing towels and decided she would stick around to chat with me while I sunk into a new hot bath.

"You know, Madame, I've worked with women who have had cases that seem similar to this before."

"Then you can tell me what's doing this?" I asked weakly, disgusted at the taste in my mouth. "I don't _feel_ sick...maybe I have some kind of strange flu or something."

"Perhaps," she agreed immediately, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes.

"What were you going to say, Ingrid?"

She gave me a small, innocent shrug, folding the towels she'd retrieved from the rack before continuing. "Never mind, Madame. I'm sure you're correct. One of our other maids came down with the flu only last week, so it would be reasonable to say that's your case, too."

When I woke the next morning, I expected the feeling to show, but it didn't. I dressed for the day in a comfortable red dress and tied my hair up, out of my face, just incase I was going to be sick, then walked down to the kitchen before anyone could send breakfast up to me.

I took a small plate of toast and jam to the library and sat in my favourite chair, looking out the window quietly. It seemed my sickness had passed, and I was grateful. Now I could just go back to shamefully trying to stay out of my husband's way and telling myself I wasn't worth anything.

I'd almost completely gotten through my toast when I felt something wasn't right and ran to the closest bathroom. Ingrid, of course, had been keeping a close eye on me and I found her standing at the door once I'd stood up and rinsed my mouth at the sink.

"I've sent for a doctor." she told me quietly.

"Excuse me?" I spun to her in outrage. "Ingrid, I said I felt fine! What would the master say if he found out you were wasting the doctors time and his money?"

"Madame, I told you I'd seen cases like this before...I just want to make sure you're okay. I'm sure it's nothing too drastic, but it's better to be safe than sorry, isn't it?"

I agreed, still a little angry, and made my way to the library, sliding the door closed behind me. I waited for the doctor, prepared to tell him I was fine and he could leave, but Ingrid entered behind him and watched me until I explained my situation to him.

"I see," he murmured, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Would it be too much to ask for privacy with the Vicomtess?" his eyes slid to Ingrid, who nodded at once and left the room. I suspected she would be listening at the door, so walked farther into the room and motioned for the doctor to make himself comfortable. He sat across from me and watched his fingers. I leaned forward, wishing I could just go back to bed.

"I feel perfectly fine, honestly...most of the time, I mean."

"And your sickness is only happening after you wake?"

"It took almost half an hour this morning, but yes."

"Hmm..." he looked up to watch me seriously. "How long has it been since your wedding, Madame?"

"Almost three weeks."

"Three weeks," he repeated, nodding to himself. "Madame, I think it's safe to say you could very well be pregnant."

"What?" I shook my head immediately. No...that wasn't possible. Raoul and I hadn't even -

I froze. I'd been trying so hard to forget about Erik the last couple of weeks that he hadn't even entered my mind. "Are you sure?" I asked, my voice sounding choked.

He nodded with a small smile playing around his lips. "You have the symtoms, Madame. Of course, I can't be one hundred percent sure just by having a short conversation with you, but I'm rarely wrong with this kind of situation."

He watched me as I felt more and more fear slip into my body. I felt as though I were somewhere else...that this was just a dream. How could this be happening? Why hadn't I let Raoul touch me? If I'd been the wonderful wife I'd been playing to the outside world, I could have believed right now that I was carrying Raoul's child...but there was no way that was possible.

"Would you like to call the Vicomte in? I'm sure he's not too busy with work for such a wonderful lot of news."

"No!" I said immediately, breaking from my trance. "No, that's okay...I want to be completely sure before I get his hopes up...and I would like to be the one to tell him. He might need some time taking it in..." and wondering how this all was possible...

"Very well," the doctor stood from his place and I followed, walking him to the door. "If you continue having morning sickness, you can be almost positive. If you're not feeling ill, it's probably not any kind of flu."

"Thank you," I said, trying not to break down right then and there. I could fall on the floor when he'd left, but not in front of him. He might worry for my mental health...

"And I will be sure not to let any of your business go until you've told your husband." he gave me a warm smile. "I understand the excitement women get from giving their partners such news."

"Thank you," I said again, trying to return his smile.

I watched him leave, walking down the hall without looking back and put my hand to my mouth. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! How could this have happened? I thought God had been ignorant enough leaving me in such a situation, but now, on top of that, I had a secret I could not tell anyone. A secret that would only bring up the despair that I'd felt since waking alone on the morning of my wedding...

"Madame?" Ingrid's blonde hair flashed in front of me as she skipped up the hall and stopped to make conversation. "Did the doctor have anything interesting to share with you?"

"No," I shook my head slowly. I couldn't tell _anyone_ until I'd worked out what I was going to do. "No, he assured me it was nothing. He said it should just be a stomach flu, and it will pass soon enough."

"Oh," her face fell, and right then I knew exactly what she had been thinking...and she'd been right. "Oh, okay. Well, I do hope you feel better, Madame. Perhaps some bed rest? I can bring you soup for lunch."

"That will be lovely, thank you." I said quickly, wanting nothing more than to pull the covers over my head and cry.

I got back to my room, kicked off my shoes and fell back, onto the matress, looking at myself hopelessly in the mirror in front of me. My teenage self looked back, completely hopeless. I wasn't old enough for this. What was I going to do?

I was carrying Erik's baby...I put my hands over my flat stomach, my fingers shaking as I did. A part of Erik was with me right now...had been since the last night I'd seen him, and all this time I'd been trying to forget about him.

It was wrong, I know, but at that moment I felt the happiest I had since my marriage. The thought of having _Erik's_ child - not Raoul's, but Erik's! That was magnificent. My dear Erik...I could only hope his many talents would be passed to our child. I smiled to myself, before looking down at my stomach and gasping quietly at the horrific thought that dared enter my mind next. What if Erik's talents weren't the only thing that were given to our child? What if the baby took on his appearance?

I couldn't tell Raoul. I knew doing so would only hurt him, and he wouldn't want to keep our marriage. I didn't deserve him as it was, and now I was pregnant with someone else's child...and the Phantom of the Opera's, for that matter! Raoul's hate for him was stronger than it was anyone else, and there had been numerous times since our marriage where he'd laughed at the Phantom's death, not showing any sympathy toward me at all. He thought he'd saved me from a terrible life with Erik, and called himself a hero.

But what if Raoul didn't want to end our marriage? What if he just forced me to get rid of my child? My fingers curled protectively over my stomach, and plans began forming themselves in my mind. I was only sure of one thing, and that was that I wanted to have this baby...and if it was born with Erik's deformity, I would deal with that when the time came. I couldn't care less if it had a beautiful face or not, I already loved this child as much as possible, but I knew if its appearance were anything less than ordinary it would not be safe. Raoul would know, and terrible things would happen. So I hoped, for my child's sake, that it would not physically take after its father, and though He had shown me no mercy for a few weeks, I kneeled beside the bed and prayed to God, desperately begging for Him to help me through this.

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**If Raoul's attitude seemed a little confusing at the beginning of this chapter, I promise it will make sense later on!**

**Also, people might not believe Christine not giving herself to Raoul as of yet, but I tried to put myself in her shoes, and if someone as perfect for me had slipped out of my life, I would be this hesitant as well. But we all know what's coming, so... :)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Chlowie, xo**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm missing my reviewers. I hope people are still enjoying this, because I'm having a lot of fun with it. Working on the good stuff at the moment, so it won't be long until we get back to happier chapters!**

**So I'm singing as Christine Daaé tomorrow morning...the hilarious thing is that I'm still rugged up in bed, unable to get my voice to cooperate. Oh no! Fingers crossed my stuffy head will be a bit better by then.**

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I waited for Raoul to come home that night. For the first time, I greeted him at the front door and had dinner with him. Some nights he was home early enough for us to eat together, but usually I went to bed almost straight after to avoid being around him and feeling guilty at not acting like a proper wife.

He seemed surprised that I greeted him, but he went along with it nonetheless and we had a rather pleasant conversation while eating our dinner. When we were finished he began making his way to the drawing room to relax after a long day, but I caught his hand. He turned, clearly confused, and I gave him a small smile, feeling sick to my stomach from nerves.

If we consumated our marriage tonight, I could tell him in a fortnight that I was pregnant and everything would be fine. I knew I couldn't hold off any longer, though, because it would get to the point where it was obvious Raoul was not the father. Besides, there was no reason why we shouldn't have been doing this...Raoul_ was_ my husband. It was my fault he was unhappy with me, and I was going to turn things right around. I was being foolish when I got uncomfortable under his hands and lips. I ought to enjoy our alone time together, and tonight, I told myself, I would. I was determined to fall in love with him the way I had been once before. I told myself I was missing out; tonight I would realise how much I needed him and our marriage would rebuild and be perfect once more.

"Christine?" he brought me back to the present, and the actress in me shone through as perfectly as she had on stage.

"Surely you don't have _more_ work to do, Raoul?"

"Just a few more -"

"I miss you terribly." I wandered closer to him and wrapped my arms around his chest. "Can't we just go to bed? Please?" I squeezed my eyes shut as his hands slid up my back, telling me he'd recieved my hidden message.

He took a deep breath and I felt him look down at me. "I guess they can wait until morning."

"Wonderful," I pulled back from his arms and flashed him one more smile before he began leading me up to our bedroom.

I followed him in slowly, wondering if I was going to be able to keep this façade up. The first thing I noticed was how brightly the moon was shining...it lit the clouds scattered around the sky and set everything alight. So different from...

I immediately crossed the room and pulled the drapes shut. If I had any hesitation at all, it would show in my face, and I didn't want Raoul picking up on how I was really feeling.

When I was satisfied with the extremely dim lights I made my way back over to his dark form and slid my hands up his chest, holding his face in my own as I stood up on my toes to kiss him.

He reacted better than I ever would have been able to. His hands caught me immediately, and straight away I shut down and let him take control, only awakening when I knew I should have. He didn't seem to notice how unresponsive I was. Yes, it pained me just to let him have his way with me while I didn't feel happy at all, but I knew there was a bigger reason I was doing this, and that was more important. This was for my child.

I thought I would be able to close my eyes, block out Raoul's voice, and imagine someone else with me, but I couldn't. Raoul's warm, rough hands were not what I'd been expecting, and he wasn't nearly as gently with me as Erik had been. I yearned for the soft touch of my other lover, but knew I would have to do without it. For the rest of my life. I was married now, and this was what I had.

If I was being truly honest with myself, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was just something new, something I clashed with. This time, my body didn't just respond automatically. I was too aware of absolutely everything that was happening, and the overwhelming desire that had flooded through me and left me breathless once before, that desire which had taken control and made me oblivious to everything else in the world, did not arrive.

When it was over, Raoul murmured a few things to me, but I pretended I had gone to sleep after a few moments. I heard him begin to snore quietly soon enough, but was not able to slip into unconsciousness myself. Instead, I lay awake, my eyes wide open in the dark room, feeling uncomfortable and violated and as though I'd betrayed Erik. I shook my head into my pillow as I felt tears leak out of my eyes. I was being an idiot. Raoul was my _husband!_ It was the right thing to do...

Then why did it feel so terribly wrong?

}~*~{

Raoul woke me in the morning, which surprised me. He did so by kissing the side of my face and I turned to him, trying to force a smile. I could tell it wasn't working, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Good morning."

From just one look at his face, I recognised relief, which baffled me for a moment. The love in his eyes shone out at me as well, and it clicked in my mind within a second. He'd obviously felt like he'd been losing me. And now, after I'd initiated such a precious moment between us, he knew he had me back. He finally felt as though his wife loved him as much as he loved her.

"Morning, Raoul."

"I have to leave now, but I'm going to try to make it back for lunch." he said, holding me tightly for one more second before leaving his place beside me. I watched as he dressed and yawned widely.

"Don't push yourself to get your work done, darling. I'm sure dinner will be enough if you can't make it."

"I'd like to see you." he tugged at his coat, resulting in him looking wonderful and opened the closet to retrieve a nightgown for me. "Put this on, will you? I'm sure you wouldn't like the maids walking in on you in such a state." I tried to laugh with him and sat up to pull the gown over my head. He kissed me one last time, then was gone.

I immediately sighed and fell back onto my pillows, wanting nothing more than sleep to escape this mad and confusing world in front of me for just a few more hours. However, no more than twenty minutes later I found myself rushing to the bathroom and being sick once more. There was no point in denying it - my doctor had obviously been correct.

Ingrid didn't arrive to hold my hair back that morning. I guessed she'd given up on stalking me when I'd proved her wrong the day before. With a lie, but I had succeeded.

I gathered a dress for the day and crossed back to the bathroom to draw myself a bath, with intention to scrub every inch of my skin from the events of the night previous. Though I still felt anxious and sore and unclean, there was a sense of relief that had come, too. I had solved my problem. I could go back to avoiding Raoul's touch, wait a couple of weeks, then tell him I was pregnant. My child would not be harmed, and I would have another excuse as to why Raoul and I should not be sleeping together. The child would make me uncomfortable, of course.

I had previously been worried at the thought of Raoul discovering I had already been taken, but he had yet to say anything. Perhaps he'd been too caught up in the moment last night to remember our honeymoon? And why had he not said anything to me that morning? I tried not to dwell on it as I sipped my tea in my usual chair at the library, a thick green book propped up in my lap and my feet resting on the stool in front of me. I had a perfect view of the window from right here. I could see out, onto the gardens, past the lawns the mansion rested on, to the road where every now and then a family would pass.

It was a beautiful day. The well-kept flowers created burts of colours throughout the garden, and the brilliant sunlight hit them to make their colours even brighter. I stood and pushed open the large window, letting the fresh air enter the library.

I realised then that I had spent almost my entire time since moving in inside the mansion, only to cross to the cottage to gather things I had left there. I assumed if I'd had a friend around I would have gone out with her, but with hardly anyone to talk to and Raoul always working the thought had never struck me.

Somehow, I happened along Clara, the maid who had lived with me before my marriage, who was polishing the cutlery in the drawing room, sat in an overly-cushioned chair.

"Clara," I addressed the closest thing I had to a friend in this place and she looked up, surprised that I had disturbed her from her work. "It's such a beautiful day. Why don't you go get a hat and coat and we'll have a picnic in the gardens?"

Clara hesitated, looking down at the fork she was holding. "I don't know, Miss Daaé...I have a lot of work to do today."

The fact that she had called me Miss Daaé instead of Madame or Vicomtess made me want to spend time with her even more. "Please, Clara." I begged, raising my eyebrows at her. "I'm getting terribly bored and claustrophobic kept indoors all the time. It would be nice to have some company."

The maid finally sighed and her arms lowered for a moment. "Give me five minutes, and I'll be ready."

I gave her a wide smile before dashing up the stairs to retrieve my hat, ever so carefully, of course. My mind was filled with terrible images of me losing my balance and falling down the stairs, losing my child before I ever got the chance to be their mother.

I found my favourite hat - a wide-brimmed straw hat that had once belonged to my mother, decorated with a cream ribbon and false flowers - and tied it around my neck gently, eyeing myself in the mirror before me. I did look beautiful, I had to admit. Being married to a Vicomte was giving me an image I never thought I would be able to gain, but here I was. I'd only ever felt this beautiful in the extravagant costumes I'd worn in the center of the stage, and that felt like a forever ago.

Clara had cucumber sandwiches made and she carried them out in a basket, with a small cake and two plates while I carried a worn blanket. I hoped Raoul wouldn't show up for lunch, because I was sure I wouldn't be hungry enough to eat anything. We set ourselves out in the shade of a wide tree beside the garden, the huge house forgotten with our backs turned to it.

I realised for the first time since being married that I could still laugh until my stomach hurt; with Clara, it felt as though I were still a dreamy ballerina girl back at the opera house. She made me feel as though I weren't married; as though I weren't hiding secrets from not only my husband, but the world I lived in.

Though I missed Meg terribly and wished to see her again very soon, I'd found a new friendship in Clara, and I was grateful. Grateful to have something to keep my mind from the things I'd done in the last few weeks...

}~*~{

For the next fortnight, it felt as though I were living two completely different lives. For most of the day, I would try to sink into that state where I didn't take anything in, and realised later on that I had successfully blocked the entire day's events from my mind, not being able to remember simple conversations, and what I had been doing at any given time. This worked very well for me, because if I wasn't thinking enough to realise what I was doing, then I wasn't thinking enough to spare a thought for Erik. Or Meg, for that matter. I still hadn't heard from my best friend.

Nights were just as bad as days. I'd had it in my mind that once I'd let Raoul make love to me once, it could all be over until absolutely necessary. That didn't seem to work out as well as I'd planned, and he seemed to expect more from me. For six nights in a row, he would march into our room with a brilliant smile on his face, distract me from what I was doing, and lift me into his arms. I knew I wasn't stong enough to phyically push him away from me, and I also knew that if I told him to stop he would become upset that I was growing distant again. I didn't need to live with the attitude he had had for the first couple of weeks after our marriage, and told myself it was worth it. I hardly remembered any of it by the morning, and if it kept him talking to me and treating me respectfully, it was okay.

I did remember enough to know that things weren't getting any better, however. I had thought that his hands were greedy and rough the first night I had been with him, but they just seemed to be getting worse. He would say and do things to me that I would be broken out of my trace from, shocked that such a thing had happened. I began to worry for the safety of my child on nights when he acted especially aggressive, and one night voiced it to him, telling him to be more gentle. He had treated me more delicately immediately, but I knew I had struck a nerve, and once he was finished with me he'd rolled over and fallen to sleep without so much as a goodnight, so I'd made a point to tell myself not to ask anything of him again.

Aside from all of this, there was a time each day that I would cherish. A time where I would feel like someone completely different - a young girl with her best friend, enjoying life and living in the moment. Clara, though shy and proper at first, had come out of her shell since I'd asked her to come out on that first picnic. I found I had almost just as much in common with her as I had had with Meg, and she was able to make me smile and laugh and forget things. I remembered more in the one or two hours we spent together a day than I did all the rest of the day. Clara was like the one small beacon of light that pulled me out of the darkness I was cloaking myself in and helped me live.

Raoul seemed happy enough that I had found a friend, and he accepted Clara having a couple of hours off work each day to keep me entertained. I knew Clara was grateful that she had found me, too, but I worried that she would be taken away from me. I told myself not to dwell on thoughts like that, because I would just send myself farther into a depression.

Though I spent hours by myself every day in the library, searching for books that could hold my attention and gazing out of the window, I worried about speaking to and putting my hands against my invisible baby, just incase someone were to walk in. I did spend a little while every night paying attention to it, however, once Raoul's snores had become evident in the darkness and I knew I was safe to do so.

One morning, Raoul's lips against my neck woke me. I tried to smile at him for a moment, then felt a familiar feeling crawl up my throat. I slid my legs over the side of the bed, holding my nightgown to me securely before leaning over the chamber pot and vomiting as I'd done so many times before in the last couple of weeks. I bit my lip when I heard Raoul's footsteps circle the bed to stand before me...he had seen me here like this and soon enough I was going to have to tell him.

"Christine?" his voice sounded a little worried, and he grasped my shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I feel fine." I said, acting ignorant to what was happening. "Perhaps it's the flu?" I tried, using the same lines I had used on Ingrid.

"I hope you're not ill." he pulled me to my feet and pressed his hand to my forehead. "You're clammy...should I call for a doctor?"

"No, Raoul," I said a little quickly. He narrowed his eyes at me and I tried again, wondering what I could possibly say. Had it been long enough? I thought back, realising it had been around a fortnight since that first night with Raoul. I could use this to my advantage. "Clara and I had plans to go into town today anyway. I'll visit one while I'm in there."

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know if I want you in town while you're in such a state...you might be sick again."

"I'll be fine." I insisted. "Now get ready for work. I'm sorry I held you up."

Raoul left me in our bedroom and I stared at my hands, shaking with my nerves. What if this didn't work out? What if Raoul didn't want a child? What if he didn't believe me? All of these thoughts ran through my head and sent me into a panic, though I knew I had no choice. My mind had been made up since I heard the doctor say those words two weeks ago, and I had no intention of changing it now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews I recieved since posting last chapter! oh my goodness, I want to be your friend! haha, I tried your suggestion, and it seemed to work because I'm back on the stage in two days, and I actually feel ready for it! Thank you!**

**Also, sorry if the last chapter was misleading to anyone...Raoul and Christine slept together more than once. Just making sure everyone's aware of that, in case I put it across badly!**

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Clara and I hadn't been going into town, but I managed to assure her Raoul knew we were going and she was able to leave the estate. She seemed uncomfortable to begin with away from work, but by the time we were at the main street she'd calmed down and started having fun. it was strange seeing her out of her uniform. She was wearing a light yellow dress, and the colour contrasted wonderfully with her caramel skin and dark hair. I realised for the first time she was quite beautiful and felt a little jealous, which I knew was foolish. My father had always told me not to yearn for what others had, because he thought of me as perfect. _Huh,_ I thought to myself bitterly _If only he could see what kind of life I was living now..._

Raoul had insisted I purchase myself more dresses. He had bought me a small collection as a surprise and hidden them in my closet for me to find the day after my wedding, but I had been wearing what I owned over and over again, and with the air becoming colder, needed a little something more. I knew in a couple of months I would be looking for clothes again...in a larger size, but until then I was going to stick with what size I knew.

"Oh, you would look wonderful in that dress, Christine!" Clara gushed as I pulled at the hem of a midnight blue dress trimmed with white and silver embroidery. I decided I would try it on and threw it over my arm with the two other dresses I had been looking at. I stopped myself here. I'd never grown up with excessive amounts of money, and was still learning to adapt to my sudden change. Raoul had ordered me to buy myself whatever took my fancy, but three dresses was enough for me for one day.

All three fit wonderfully and Clara watched happily as I studied myself in the long mirror on the wall of the boutique.

"You look perfect, Christine." she told me as I smiled and ran my hands over the fabric. Not only had Clara's personality shone more in the last couple of weeks, but my name had been changed from Miss Daaé to Christine when it was just the two of us. This was even more appreciated than her last choice, and made me feel less important than I was now considered. Which, for me, was a relief.

I purchased the three dresses and Clara helped me with the boxes as we stepped out, onto the street in search for a nice cafe for lunch. We sat inside the window of a small red and orange cafe on the corner of the street we'd been shopping on and ordered coffees and salads while Clara began telling me all about a boy who had moved into the house next door her own. I grinned as I listened, happy for my new best friend. Clara had one day off a week, and spent the night before at the house she lived in with her older sister, who owned a small tailoring store, a half an hour walk from Raoul's estate. Apparently quite a charming young man had bought the house next door, and he'd been paying Clara more attention than necessary.

"He's studying medicine, Christine. He must be incredibly smart...and he's so polite. He invited me over for dinner while Annette was working. Of course, I didn't accept but I"

"And why ever not?" I asked, my voice raising as I stared at her incredulously. "My dear Clara, how are you ever going to find yourself a man if you do not accept his proposals?"

"What would I have told my sister?" she said, blushing as she hid her face behind her coffee cup. "I'm sure there'll be other chances, Christine, but...oh..." she sighed and shook her head in embarrassment. "He makes my fingers shake and my words turn to stutters."

I laughed gently and put my fork to my mouth. "I've had that feeling before. You've got to catch onto it and make it last."

"Did you stutter over Raoul?" she asked me curiously.

I hesitated, then nodded. "When I was younger. I remember him handing me my scarf. It was dripping all over the place, and I was too caught up in trying to act proper and sensible in front of him that I wasn't focusing and wrapped it back around my neck."

Clara laughed. "But you were too young to be in love back then...what about when you met him again at the opera house?"

I thought seriously again. I remembered what seemed like falling head-over-heels for him the first few times he'd made an appearance as such a dashing young man, but I hadn't been so pathetic.

"He made my stomach turn to butterflies." I told her honestly. "He made me feel as though I could have spent every second on pointe shoes. He lifted me up so high that I'd wait anxiously all day to be able to spend a moment with him after a show or between rehearsals."

Clara sighed. "And now look what you have...I only hope something like that will come out of this. I've never felt like this for anyone before."

"And speaking of someone studying medicine," I said, remembering my promise to Raoul. "I have to visit the doctor for a moment when we're finished here..." I looked down and noticed I'd already eaten most of my salad and Clara had hardly made a dent in her own. "I'll finish up now and meet you back here when I've seen him."

She leaned forward, her eyes worried. "I can come with you, Christine...is something wrong?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Clara. Just a checkup. I wouldn't want to drag you along with me..." I needed to make everyone believe that I was, in fact, going to see the doctor today, but I had no intention of doing so. I knew what was wrong with me, and as I was only almost a month into my pregnancy, I suspected there wouldn't be much they could do for me.

Clara agreed and I pushed the rest of my salad into my mouth and left the cafe and my friend still sitting at the table with my dresses. I didn't know what I was going to do now, but told myself I could be back in ten minutes and make her believe I'd spoken with a doctor in that amount of time.

I entered a small perfume store and smiled at the woman serving before going to the back of the store and making myself look interested in what I saw. She approached me after a couple of minutes with a professional smile.

"Would I be able to help you with anything, Mademoiselle?"

"No, I'm quite alright, thank you. Just browsing."

"Very well," she said with a polite nod. "Just call me back if you need any help."

I thanked her and stayed for a few minutes longer before leaving and heading back toward the cafe without testing any of the scents out on my skin. All I needed was for Clara to smell me and become suspiscious of my whereabouts.

She was still sitting at the table when I returned, pushing a piece of tomato around on her plate. I remembered I had just come from the doctor's with life changing news and plastered a bright smile on my face when she looked up to see me.

"Back already?"

"They were quiet."

"You certainly look happy...all healthy are we?"

"Better than that." I pulled the boxes into my arms and began marching out of the cafe with Clara following after me, a bounce in her step at my happiness.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly, catching up to me and taking one of the boxes out of my arms.

I stopped at the edge of the park and turned to her, telling myself it was now or never. I'd already decided on telling Clara first. It would be easier breaking the news to my own husband if someone else knew, I figured. This woud be like a practise.

"I'm having a baby." I said happily, my grin real for the first time. The words hit me properly as soon as they'd left my mouth. I was pregnant! How wonderful! Apparently they'd affected Clara the same way because she dropped the box she was holding to shriek and wrap her arms aroud me happily.

"Oh my goodness, Christine! How exciting! Ooh! We need to get home and make you comfortable! Ingrid can help. She's taken care of four pregnant women before. She told me herself. Oh my gosh! Raoul's going to be so happy, Christine! Oh, _I'm _so happy!" she babbled as she bent down to take back the box she'd dropped and lead me back to my new home.

It was a relief, having someone else know the secret I'd kept to myself for so long. I didn't even feel the need to spew out that it wasn't Raoul's child. I myself knew, and that seemed enough.

I made Clara promise she wouldn't tell anyone else about my situation, and she agreed, knowing it would be best for Raoul to find out from me instead of his workers. There was another reason, that being Ingrid, that I hadn't wanted Clara to say anything.

Ingrid was going to be tricky. I needed to find a way to convince her that her suspiscions hadn't been correct a fortnight ago when she'd contacted the doctor who had given me the news. I needed to make it seem like a coincidence and that I'd only just found out myself. I hadn't been pregnant for a month. Just two weeks. Raoul didn't need to know that I'd been getting morning sickness before we'd even made love. That didn't make sense.

When we got back home I put my new dresses into the closet of our bedroom and Clara changed back into her work uniform before leaving me for the day. Immediately I felt less happy. Her presence seemed like the only thing that was keeping me sane, but I knew she had to get back to work or I would lose her for good.

I crawled back against my pillow when I was alone and stared up at the ceiling, my hands pressed against my stomach. I could get away with this now, in case anyone walked in. There was no evidence of the tiny person growing inside me yet, but I knew they were there, and for the first time, I actually believed it. Just telling Clara had made it become true to me. I was having a baby, and that thought made me very happy.

The only thing that could have made me happier was having the child's father around to share my joy with me...

I must have fallen asleep there, because I woke hours later to sunset greeting me beyond the balcony from the doors I had pushed open once again. I realised what sound had woken me up a moment later when Raoul's voice called to one of the workers from just down the hall, and I sat up, feeling very refreshed. The nervousness from before entered my stomach as I realised what I was going to have to do in just a few seconds. I waited for him to open the door, wondering how to go about this.

"Christine," he grinned when he saw me there waiting for him and immediately began moving forward, but I stood and he stopped.

"I went to see the doctor," I started, chewing on my lip as I wondered what to say next.

He must have seen how nervous I was because he took another step forward. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I insisted, lowering my eyes to the carpet beneath my bare feet. I felt him move forward and catch my shoulders in his hands and looked up slowly, slipping a small smile onto my face as I did. "I'm pregnant, Raoul."

He blinked a couple of times, looking down at me as if my words hadn't registered. "Wha are you sure?"

I nodded, hoping he was going to be happy. I waited for him. It took a moment, but then his arms enveloped me and he pulled me off my feet. "Oh, Christine!" he kissed me passionately for a moment before squeezing me tightly again. "Oh, this is wonderful! We're having a baby!" he announced to the empty room before setting me on my feet once more.

"Are you comfortable? What do you need? I can get you anything you like."

I shook my head and pretended to yawn, despite being wide awake from my nap I'd only just woken up from. "I'm a little tired. I think I'm just going to get some sleep."

"I'll bring you tea up when I come back. I'll be in early."

"I will most likely be sleeping." I insisted, not wanting to spend too much quality time with my husband while we were alone in our bedroom. I knew what he would do to our innocent conversation, and today I simply didn't care to keep things between us in Raou's favour. "But you can wake me to eat. I suppose I am eating for two now."

"Of course." he kissed my forehead and pulled out a nightgown for me to change into. "Get some sleep. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Thank you, Raoul." I said gently as he closed the door behind him.

"I love you Christine." he called before he was out of my earshot.

I frowned at the door when he'd left. That wasn't at all how I'd expected him to react. I'd only hoped that he wouldn't tell me he didn't believe he was the father...I'd hoped that he wouldn't hate the fact that we were having a baby...I'd hoped he wouldn't be angry at me and begin giving me the silent treatment again...

I hadn't at all imagined he would be so utterly happy. His joyous attitude just made me feel worse about the situation. If he ever found out that this child was not his, it would break his heart. Raoul hadn't deserved any of this, and I couldn't help but feel like the worst person in the world from it all.

But there was no reason why he would need to find out. He apparently hadn't realised that I had been untrue to him, seeing as he hadn't mentioned it himself, so why would he even consider this child not being his? He had no reason to think over it...to find out. No, he wouldn't find out. I'd keep the secret hidden and hope for the best. There would be no one in the world that would know about the child's true father. And if one day, impossibly, I _did _happen to meet him again, I would not let him know, either. This was Raoul's child from now on, and I was going to make sure everyone was sure of it. I owed my husband that much.

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**Just a short one! But the next chapter will be up very shortly!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Chlowie, xo**


	8. Chapter 8

For one whole week, Raoul gave me everything I asked, as well as everything he simply imagined I should need. He treated me like a princess, smiled whenever I was around, started work late and left early, made me breakfast in bed and helped me with the most simple of tasks, even if I told him I was fine by myself.

Clara seemed just as excited and spent almost about every minute gushing with me about everything to do with the baby. Of course, Ingrid knew now, as Raoul had announced it to the whole household as soon as he'd found out, but I'd assured her I'd only just found out that day myself. I didn't know if she completely believed me, but she didn't press matters and accepted what I'd told her, which was a relief.

I was happy, too. I spent more time in the mornings making myself look as beautiful as I could manage, and when I was sitting alone in the library I would talk to the baby as if it could understand me. I didn't think about Erik. Since I'd told myself to forget about him, my mind had switched over to him less and less, which was something I thought would not have happened. I'd expected it to be more difficult than that, but God must have finally been helping me in some way.

With lesser thoughts of Erik, my love of singing returned. I would hum to myself while reading and sing quietly whenever I had time to myself. He was present enough in my mind for me not to sing like I used to, but I didn't mind.

With Raoul taking such good care of me, I, myself began to believe that this was his child. I knew he was going to be such a good father, and I was excited for when the baby came so I could have a happy family of my own. I'd been without one for such a long time, and I felt as though my life were truly about to heal completely.

The only thing wrong was my nights with Raoul. I didn't believe they were ever truly going to be good for me, and I'd started using the baby as an excuse. Whenever Raoul's hands became too suggetive I would tell him I was uncomfortable or tired because of the baby, and for that wonderful first week, he accepted. During the second, however, I could tell I was beginning to frustate him. He didn't try with me at all the third week. Our conversations became less once more and I missed him from when he'd been so kind and generous to me, but a small part of me felt it was worth it if it meant I could selfishly keep my body to myself.

A month after I'd come out with the news, Raoul told me he was going on a business trip for three nights. He told me the day before he left and was gone before I could wake up the morning of the trip. I felt a little guilty at how upset I'd obviously made him with me, but I didn't dwell on it. I just needed to think of something I could do that would make him happy with me again.

Once again, I felt alone in that big house. My spells of blankness began returning, and the only reason I got out of bed at all was for the baby. Clara invited me to stay with her on her night off, and I accepted immediately. Anything to get my head out of the dull interior of the mansion that felt so much like a prison to me.

For some reason, I was more comfortable in her house than I was in my own home. It was small and homely, and always smelled of cooking food. Her sister was friendly enough, and worked a lot of the time I was there, giving Clara and I time to ourselves.

"That's him," Clara had whispered to me over the tiny table the morning after our stay. We were drinking tea on the patio, and there had been movement next door. An attractive boy around my age had closed the door to his house behind him and was straightening books in his arms.

"Introduce me." I grinned, wanting nothing more than to see Clara spending time with a man of some sort.

She bit her lip, obviously asking herself whether she dared to or not, then called his name loudly, causing his head to snap up in our direction.

"Monsieur Bardot, come here." Clara said with a friendly smile, beckoning him over with her hand.

He walked briskly up to the small gate and let himself in as I stood with Clara to be introduced.

"Henri, this is my best friend, Christine Daaé, Christine, Henri Bardot."

"Christine Daaé?" he questioned, looking me over. "Not the Soprano from the incidents at the opera house?"

"Yes, that's me." I said, trying to smile as painful memories were brought back to me.

"It's a pleasure." he smiled charmingly and released my hand, taking Clara's in turn. "I had no idea you were home, Miss Clara."

"I'll be gone again in an hour." she answered sadly.

"It's a shame," he let go of her hand and began walking backwards, toward the gate again, still speaking to my friend. I watched them with a small smirk on my face. "I wish to spend more time with you. Would it be alright if I called on you next Saturday evening?"

"Yes, of course!" Clara agreed, a little too loudly. Henri didn't seem to pick up on her excitement and smiled once more at the both of us before turning and leaving.

"Oh, Christine!"

"I work wonders," I joked, taking a long sip of tea. I pulled the cup from my lips and stared at the table as if we were discussing the weather. "You're borrowing one of my dresses."

"What? Oh no, I have dresses of my own...your dresses look too expensive for me to be wearing." she said, blushing darkly.

"Nonsense, Clara. You're being courted by a doctor -"

"Student of medicine."

"You need to look your best...besides, I already have a dress in mind."

My joy with Clara disappeared almost as soon as Raoul returned home. I had been sleeping at the time, and woke to his warm lips over my own. I blinked a couple of times and frowned at him in confusion.

"I missed you so much, Christine." he told me as his hands slid underneath my back and held me up, against him. His kisses became more forceful against my still lips, and I wondered what I should do. I'd been getting used to just shutting down and letting him have his way with me, but right now that was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Raoul," my hands pressed against his chest and I did my best to push him away from me. "Please,"

"Please what, Christine? Is it wrong to want my wife after going so long without her?"

"The baby -"

"Has nothing to do with this!" he shouted at me, pulling back to sit in front of me on the matress. I watched him, my eyes shocked at his outburst, and he buried his face in his hands. "Forget it," he finally mumbled, turning away from me and grabbing his sleepwear. I pulled my pillow closer to me and turned my back on him as he readied himself for bed and made himself comfortable beside me. He didn't say anything else before beginning to snore.

I closed my eyes tightly and pressed my hands against my stomach, trying not to let the tears I could feel leak out of my eyes. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult. Why couldn't I just be a good wife? The only thing I wanted at that moment, more than anything else in the whole world, was to want Raoul the way he wanted me. Why was I finding that so hard?

My fault from that night cost me. He didn't wake me in the morning before heading off to work, he didn't try to make it back to the estate for lunch, and he didn't say one word to me during dinner. By the time I had cleaned up and made it to our bedroom he was already asleep, and I realised I'd gone the whole day without speaking to him.

Sometimes we would have days where we would hold a small conversation, and these days made me feel wonderful, but usually we would act like we had nothing to do with each other.

My tummy grew, but that seemed to mean nothing to Raoul. I tried to get him interested by telling him facts I'd learned about pregnancy from Ingrid, but he didn't act as though he cared. Most days I spent running my hands over my belly through my dress in the library and trying to think of ways to fix things with Raoul, but I couldn't come up with anything.

Then there was one night that changed that altered our lives together for good. I'd been knitting in the drawing room, waiting for him to come home so I could retire, but had fallen asleep. My back and legs had been incredibly sore all day, so I hadn't moved off the sofa. Raoul was usually home before sunset, but I'd stayed awake for almost an hour after and he hadn't returned.

When I finally heard the door slam I woke up immediately and looked at the clock against the wall. It was close to midnight.

"Raoul?" I asked, groaning as I tried to sit up. My body was still aching and I was having a hard time moving by myself. "Raoul,"

He stopped at the door and looked in at me furiously, and I hesitated. He looked somewhat disheveled. His hair was a mess, and his shirt was loose around his neck and chest. As soon as he spoke I could smell the strong scent of alcohol coming from him.

"What is it, _my dear?"_

He was drunk. I lowered my eyes, for some strange reason feeling embarrassed speaking to him. "I think I need some help to our room. Would you be able to just help me off the sofa?"

He laughed loudly and I cringed, staring at him in disbelief. "You want my hands on you now?" he asked, loud enough for the entire house to be able to hear him at such a late hour. "I'm not available right now. Perhaps you should let me touch you when _I _want to."

He walked away before I could say anything else, and I sat there for a moment longer, shocked at what had just happened. I did my best to push myself from the sofa and stand, but I was slow and it took me a while to stretch my legs enough before I felt comfortable walking. I left my knitting behind, trudging all the way up to our bedroom with tears stinging my eyes the entire way.

Raoul did not apologise to me. He didn't even act like it had happened. He just continued to be gloomy and unattatched. Most of the time I tried to stay out of his way. I went back to falling asleep before he got home and trying not to say too much to make him angry.

That wasn't the only time he returned home drunk. There were more than a few occasions, and it was beginning to turn into a regular thing. One day I woke to see him still beside me, though he should have been at work over an hour ago. Knowing he would be angry with me if I left him lying there, I shook his shoulder gently.

"Raoul...darling, you're late for work."

He groaned and rolled over and I shook his shoulder a little more roughly. "Raoul, it is eight o'clock. You need to get up."

His hand shot out and caught my own, squeezing it painfully. "I'll get up when this darned headache leaves me, Christine, and not a moment before." he threw my hand away from him and I climbed out of bed immediately, crossing to my wardrobe and taking out a comfortable dress to wear around the house.

I left our bedroom and went directly to the library, where I knew I wouldn't disturb Raoul. This wasn't the first time he'd had a hangover in the last few months, and I knew the best thing I could do was stay out of his way.

My belly was huge now. I was beginning to worry more about my pregnancy and the baby's appearance. I knew Raoul was smart enough to put two and two together if the child looked anything like its real father, and I didn't want to be kicked out with a baby and no where to go to keep it safe.

Knowing I would probably be stuck in the library for the whole day, I made myself comfortable by the fire and rested my hands against my stomach thoughtfully, looking into the flames. Would my life be this upetting if Erik hadn't left me? Would he have treated me respectfully and gently, or would he have spent time alone like Raoul? Where would we be right now if he'd stayed with me...

I stopped thinking about it, the thoughts becoming too painful to bear. I wasn't happy at all. I didn't even have Clara around as much anymore...things had gone well between herself and Henri, and I knew at any moment she would be announcing her leave and I would be here alone.

I hummed quietly to myself while warming my toes up by the fire, trying to keep myself calm. It would do me no good to break down and cry to myself at a time like this. I was going to stay stong for my child and get through my life with the best smile I could manage.

After a couple of minutes of humming a song my father had used to sing me, I felt something peculiar that made me jump. I gasped and looked down at my belly, wondering if I'd imagined it. I began to hum again, and sure enough, the same strange yet wonderful sensation met with my fingers. My baby was moving!

"Do it again." I said softly, closing my eyes and hoping for the feeling to come. It didn't. I frowned and tried something different. I sang. I sang properly for the first time since my marriage, and as I did, thoughts of Erik and that single wonderful night we'd shared together came back to me, making the tears finally fall from my eyes. Erik had always been the one I would sing for, and now I sang for our child, who was kicking again and seemed to enjoy my voice just as much as its father. It was all too overwhelming, and I felt myself begin to sob before a loud noise at the door silenced me.

"Didn't I say not an hour ago I had a headache?" Raoul asked angrily. I swallowed and stood from my place.

"Raoul, the baby -"

"Is not making you sing, Christine." he said gruffly. "Now please be quiet, because I don't want to have to tell you again!" he turned and left and I stared after him, my happy tears turning hopeless.


	9. Chapter 9

When Clara finally announced she would be leaving after being engaged, I felt completely alone. I'd already lost Meg, and now I was losing the only other best friend I'd ever had. I had Raoul left, and he seemed to want to spend as little time as possible with me. Clara promised we would still see a lot of each other, but I knew that wouldn't be true. She would be kept busy with plans for the wedding and when she was married, she would probably disappear to start a new life with Henri.

I didn't tell Raoul the baby had started kicking after his outburst in the library, but was surprised when he began talking to me a little more...during the times he was sober, of course.

We were having a quiet breakfast together one morning when he cleared his throat to get my attention.

"I am going to take you shopping for a dress tomorrow. We're going to the opening of the opera house."

"I beg your pardon?" I frowned, hearing this for the first time. Wasn't this something he could have told me earlier?

"They've restored it," he continued. "And of course we were invited to the premiere of their first show. We'll be sitting in Andre and Firmin's box, and you will obviously be needing a new dress, because I doubt your others will fit you."

"I don't know..." I cringed at the thought of going back to the opera house and knowing _he_ wouldn't be there...he wouldn't be watching like I was used to. "So much has happened there, Raoul. Wouldn't you rather not go?"

"This is business, Christine, not pleasure. And you will attend with me, because you are my wife, and ought to act like it for once in your life."

"Yes, darling." I said immediately, looking down at my plate. Something else entered my mind, and I looked back up to him. "Raoul, you don't know whether Madame Giry will be attending, do you? She was, after all, important to the opera house...I just haven't heard from either her or Meg since before our wedding."

"I wouldn't have a clue, Christine." he sighed, looking over the paperwork on the table in front of him. "I guess we'll see when we get there."

}~*~{

The opera house was just as beautiful as it had been before, but had more of a modern take to it. I gazed around in awe, trying so hard not to think of him as Raoul kept a tight grip on my hand whilst speaking to business partners.

After a while, I was met with Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin and their wives as we made our way up to the box we would be watching the opera from.

"Look at you, Madame." Monsieur Andre sighed, leaning in to kiss both of my cheeks. "You're looking absolutely radiant."

"How long to go now?" his wife asked from his side.

"A little less than a month." I said excitedly, placing my hands on my belly.

"Well, congratulations to the both of you."

"Thank you, Andre." Raoul said in a tone which ended the conversation. He began speaking about something to do with the turnout of people, and I stayed back to address Monsieur Firmin.

"Monsieur, I was wondering if you've heard anything at all from Madame Giry?"

"Funny you should mention, Madame. We tried to contact her on numerous occasions to attend tonight, as a matter of fact, but couldn't seem to reach her. Was there anything you needed to see her for?"

I shook my head, feeling more upset than I thought possible. If the opera house hadn't been able to find her, I knew I didn't stand a chance. "No, not at all. I just hadn't heard from either of the Girys since..."

"I assume she's just found herself another place to instruct and left for work. I wouldn't worry about them. You know what kind of woman Madame Giry is. She'll be taking care of herself."

"Of course." I agreed, trying to smile as I took my place next to Raoul.

The opera was wonderful. The cast wasn't anything as brilliant as the one that I'd been a part of, but they were fantastic all the same. I felt homesick after watching, and wished for nothing more than to be able to return and be a part of productions again as a small and innocent ballet girl, following Meg around and listening to frightening tales of the Phantom of the Opera. But that wasn't going to happen. In the last couple of years I had grown from a naïve child to a young woman about to have a child of her own, and I knew I ought not to be dwelling on such memories.

"That was wonderful." I told Raoul, trying to make friendly conversation with him once we'd returned home.

"I have a headache." he announced quietly. I gave up and changed into my nightgown before slipping into bed. He didn't say anything to me as he did the same, and as the lights went out I tried to patch things up between us one last time.

"Raoul?"

"What is it, Christine?"

"I love you."

It took a while for him to answer, but he did, and I fell asleep feeling more comfortable with him than I had in a long time. "I love you too, Christine."

}~*~{

I'd fallen back into the state of blocking out my day. I didn't smile anymore, because of Raoul, I didn't sing anymore, because of Raoul, and I didn't see the point in beginning conversations with anyone. Clara had come to visit me twice since leaving, and both times she had only remarked on my growing belly, other than how terrible I looked elsewhere.

Most days I was tired and my back ached, and I wanted nothing more than to fall to sleep and not wake up, but I pushed myself out of bed and spent my days trying to be the best wife I could manage for Raoul.

When snow began falling, I stopped going into the garden and made the library my hide away. When Raoul asked how I had spent my day he would always recieve the same answer, and I wondered if he even felt the smallest bit guilty at how miserable I had become.

I was too big now to be intimate with him, and he seemed to forgive me a little for our lack of physical affection shown toward each other. A lot of nights we had long conversations with each other, and I kissed him a lot. I'd learned to do it as if it were as easy as holding his hand and it didn't phase me at all.

There were days when our marriage would become like the days when he had been courting me back at the opera house, and I would be happy, feeling as though it were just the two of us once again and we hadn't ever been caught up in a terrible mess with the Phantom of the Opera. Then there were other days when Raoul would come home smelling of alcohol and wanting absolutely nothing to do with me. On these days I acted as though nothing was wrong and tried to stay out of his way.

One night we were sitting together on our bed, two lamps lit, casting a yellowy glow over both of us as we talked. I'd brought up baby names, hoping to get Raoul most interested, and it had worked.

"What if it's a boy?" I asked, tired of arguing with him over girl's names.

"Philbert," he stated his father's name, and I did not miss that it was not a question.

I shook my head, hoping not to offend him. I didn't want any part of Raoul's family in my child's name. They didn't deserve to think they owned him any more than they already did. "No, I don't know if I like Philbert..."

"It's my father's name, Christine." Raoul pressed.

"Well what about my father?" I pressed, just trying to irritate him.

"Gustave?" he questioned. The two of us paused as the name hung in the air. It sounded...good. Gustave. Gustave of Changy. My son Gustave...

"I like it." I told him softly. He looked down at me and did something that shocked me. For the first time since my stomach had grown, he pressed his palms onto it.

"Is your name Gustave?" he asked the child quietly. There was no answer, and the two of us waited silently, keeping watch over my stomach.

I began to hum, knowing the effect it would have over my baby. Sure enough, after a few moments, it kicked against Raoul's hand. He gasped and smiled widely. "It likes your singing." he stated, leaning in to kiss me gently. "How did you know to do that?"

"I was told unborn babies like the sound of their mother's voice." I said, positive this was not the only reason. I couldn't explain to Raoul how much my child took after its father already with the positive reactions I recieved for my voice.

He yawned and turned to put his light out, ending our conversation. "We'll see about Gustave. But surely you see reason in naming it after my own father."

I sighed and let it go. I knew that if Raoul had his mind set I wouldn't be able to change it, but I would try. There had to be some way to get my point across. Perhaps I could give him a long, sad sob story about how naming the baby Gustave would be like one last try at keeping my father beside me?

Deciding not to worry about it, I extinguished my own lamp and rested my head back, against my pillow. Who was to say we were even going to have a son? It could very well be a daughter. But even so, I wasn't going to have Raoul name it after his mother or one of his sisters...

I was getting close to having the baby, and I was beginning to get more and more worried about its physical state. I knew that no matter what it looked like, I would love it with all my heart. I already did. But it would be terrible nonetheless for it to have Erik's deformity. I knew for sure now that Raoul wouldn't hesitate in throwing me out and showing no mercy for what I'd done, and I had to keep the secret my marriage forbid hidden.

I expected to have the baby before my due date, as Raoul had told a new doctor who I had been going to see when the baby was concieved, and he thought it had been over a fortnight after it truly had. I began waiting to go into labour any moment, and only hoped that Raoul could be there for me when the time came.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm being really bad and posting another chapter during my HSC trials when I should be studying and rehearsing. Oh well!**

**I'm honoured to hear so many people have been enjoying this! I love getting every single review! Thank you!**

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The time did come quicker than anyone had been expecting. I'd gone down to the kitchens to get a late lunch one afternoon and had ended up clinging onto the table as my waters broke and my first contraction hit, calling desperately for help from the staff who were busy cooking and cleaning. Ingrid, as well as two other maids, came to my aid immediately, and for the first time, I was genuinely happy to see her.

"Get her back to her bedroom." Ingrid instructed them calmly, turning to the window beside her and calling through it to a gardener. "We need the doctor immediately for the Vicomtess! Hurry!"

Ingrid got me back to bed and piled pillows behind me, holding my hand and telling me I'd be alright. I tried to concentrate on the conversations they were having around me instead of the fear and pain I was in.

"Someone needs to send for the master. Tell them to get him here as quickly as possible."

"What if the doctor doesn't make it in time?"

I decided their words weren't what I needed to hear and groaned as another contraction tore though my body, squeezing Ingrid's hand and hoping I hurt her.

"You're alright, Madame." she said softly. "Just breathe."

All at once, the horrifying thoughts seeped back into my mind. What if this child was born like its father? What if it was born perfect, but Raoul still knew? What if he didn't know, and loved the child as though it were his own? Every situation felt horrible to me, and I began to panic.

It hurt. Much more than I was prepared for. The doctor who had diagnosed me all that time ago came to the house within a couple of hours and took over from Ingrid, who was still perfectly calm with her hand in my tight grasp.

For the first time since finding out about my pregnancy, I was angry at Erik. Not for putting me in the position I was in. I didn't regret being pregnant at all. And if I were being completely honest with myself, I was glad it had been him and not Raoul. It was horrible to think like that, I know, but I couldn't think anything different. I'd never enjoyed myself with Raoul, and I didn't want a reminder with me always of the way he took advantage of me. And though I knew this was the wrong way to think, I felt lucky that I'd been given this one precious thing to keep the memory of the most perfect night of my life.

No, I was angry at Erik for leaving me alone in a world I felt so uncomfortable in; leaving me to deal with whatever consequences would come out of this. As far as I knew, after that night he'd realised I hadn't, in fact, been the love of his life, and now I was stuck in a life of my own that I could have avoided had things been different.

I waited for Raoul to show so I could shout at him for a while, finally having a reasonable excuse to do so after the way he'd been acting, but when the maid Ingrid had sent to bring him home returned, more than an hour after leaving, she was alone. She called Ingrid out of the room as the doctor talked me though calming down and I watched them as they stood at the door, not being able to listen into their hushed tones.

Ingrid looked irritated while the other maid was speaking quickly, shaking her head as she did. She looked distressed, and every now and then they would look in at me with worried expressions. Finally Ingrid calmingly put her hands on the maid's shoulders and pushed her gently from the room, then turned and walked back to me silently. She pulled a chair to my bedside and took my hand again, rubbing it.

I watched her carefully, wondering why she'd bothered with the chair instead of just standing beside me like she had been previously. "Ingrid?" I whispered, feeling as though I were going to pass out and not being able to speak. "What is it?"

She gave me a long look without saying anything, then lowered her eyes. I squeezed her fingers more tightly, forcing her to look at me. "Where's Raoul?"

She looked back to me with sadness in her eyes. "Catherine went out looking for the Vicomte, but he wasn't working. Apparently he finished a few hours early and decided to spend some time at the bar before coming home."

I sighed and groaned as another contraction took my body, waiting until it was over to continue our conversation. "And he's not coming? Why isn't he here? What if I -"

"It's alright," she said, pushing my stray curls out of my eyes. "He'll be here. He said he would begin making his way over right away. I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

I'd been in that cursed bed for six hours before he walked through the front door. The maid who had been sent for him immediately came to the door of our bedroom to tell us he'd arrived and I immediately felt relieved. I was hoping if Raoul saw how much pain I was in he would begin treating me a little more respectfully. I didn't even feel any guilt toward the fact that I was trying to gain sympathy.

When he came to the door he stumbled, immediately making my relief disappear. My husband hadn't come to show my sympathy. He was drunk, and that meant he would only be thinking about himself.

"You're still going," he commented, walking into the room. He began speaking quietly to the doctor and I looked up at him in disbelief, wondering if he were even going to address me. After a few moments he straightened up and looked over me before drawling out his last words. "Well where am I supposed to sleep?"

I saw Ingrid bite her lip angrily and close her eyes, as if she were now trying to keep herself calm. When she spoke again it was through gritted teeth. "I'm sure one of the guest bedrooms would serve to be quite comfortable, if only for tonight, Monsieur."

"Indeed," he scoffed. "I'm going to get my supper, then I will be back. Can I get you anything, _darling?"_ he asked sarcastically.

"Raoul!" I screamed, surprising myself. My outburst had the effect of making the whole room pause. I don't even know what I'd been trying to accomplish...perhaps I was trying to break him out of his attitude and hope he would miraculously become sober. He raised his eyebrows at me until he decided I had nothing to say, then turned toward the door and disappeared from sight.

I looked to Ingrid desperately, hoping she would be able to do something to bring him back as the comforting husband I knew he could be, but she just lowered her eyes in a way that told me she was having negative thoughts about her boss and feared to voice them.

"Alright, Christine." the doctor said, breaking the uncomfortable silence to give me a nod. The fact that he used my first name comforted me and calmed me down immediately...until I realised what he was meaning. "It's time."

I shook my head, turning to Ingrid who stood and took my other hand. "It's alright, Madame." she said in a way that was supposed to make me feel able to do this seemingly impossible task.

It took longer than I thought. Raoul came back in time and took Ingrid's place, and I wasn't sure if I actually wanted him there or not. He squeezed my hand, and for a moment when my eyes were screwed closed, I didn't imagine my husband sitting beside me...I imagined the father of my child.

"One more time, Christine." my doctor said after what felt like days. I took a huge breath, just wanting to fall asleep, then fell back againt my pillows when I couldn't take it anymore. My eyes snapped back open as my baby's cries filled the room, and I saw Raoul craning his neck to get a better look. I immediately felt panic flood through me. What did my child look like? Had Raoul seen something out of the ordinary? Why was the doctor facing away from me?

"Congratulations," he said, turning with a small smile which eased my mind straight away. "You have a son."

I laughed silently, feeling extremely happy and somewhat proud of myself and held my arms out to hold my son for the first time, anxious to see him. At that moment, I wouldn't have even cared if he'd looked like Erik. If Raoul kicked me out, I could deal with it. I would find my own home and way of keeping a life. I was just happy he was finally here. But as I looked down my heart melted at that beautiful face. He was absolutely perfect. He had a small amount of dark hairs on his head, a little pudgy nose I wanted to press compassionately and thoughtful, dark eyes. Eyes so dark it seemed as if I were staring into an abyss...

"Gustave." I immediately whispered, before Raoul could mention anything. "Hello, Gustave." he looked up at me as I murmured small words to him and I smiled wider than I had in months.

"He's beautiful, Lotte." Raoul's voice had me looking up in surprise. He didn't seem drunk anymore, but I wouldn't let him hold my son tonight, just incase he was still unstable. I knew he couldn't possibly be sober. "Little Gustave." he agreed.

In that one moment, he seemed so much like the charming young man who had been courting me not all that long ago at the opera house. I rested my forehead against his own, trying to preserve the feelings I had for him right then, and he stretched his hand out to gently grasp my son's tiny fingers.

"He has your lips, Christine."

"Yes," I agreed quietly, looking over my son. I knew where most of his features had come from, but I wasn't going to mention it. But how? I could see so much of his father, and yet...he was so handsome. "And I imagine he will grow to look like you, Raoul." I lied. I gently ran my fingers through his hair and laughed when he yawned.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart." I whispered, looking up to thank my doctor as he began to make his way out of our bedroom, requesting Raoul to follow him.

I was left alone with my son for the first time, and as I held him in the huge room, being the only person in the whole world to truly know who he was, I knew I would never be able to let anyone in on the forbidden information. Gustave himself would never know.

From that moment on, I forced myself to believe that his father was the man I had married.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry this took so long to get up! I thought I'd already posted it.**

**Before you read on, I just want to remind you that there are other stories out there where Raoul is completely evil, and also that he's not a crazy murderer in my story...okay? Yes? I'm slightly scared...**

* * *

Once again, my life was happy, and all because of my beautiful son. Raoul would come home straight after he'd finished his work to spend time with us. If he were working from home, he would sit in the drawing room with us as he did. I no longer felt alone through the day, even though Gustave was unable to speak to me.

When Gustave was three weeks old, I took him out for the first time. I was going to visit Clara, who I hadn't seen in over a month. She and Henri had moved into a small house not half an hour away, and said Raoul and I were welcome to visit at any time.

I was greeted to her loud exclaims of delight when the door opened, and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling us slowly into the house. Henri was drinking tea at the table as he read documents in front of him and I waved with a wide smile before Clara sat us down.

"Did you want some breakfast? I'll make you some tea..."

Once she was finished she sat beside me and took Gustave's little hand. "Oh, he's beautiful, Christine. And I'm not just saying that because he's a baby, he really is."

"I know." I chirped happily, kissing his forehead.

"Does he get his looks from you or Raoul?" Henri asked, frowning a little as he studied my son.

I lowered my eyes as I answered. "I think he looks like his father. But Raoul's commented on him having my features."

"Where does he get his eyes from?" Clara gasped as Gustave looked at her from the same time.

I bit my lip. Gustave's eyes were certainly something different. They were so dark...so, so dark. I'd stared into them, trying time and time again to find the faintest hint of any colour, but it was impossible. It was as if they were truly black as a moonless night. Only on a couple of occasions had the faintest spark of gold shone out at me, both in the darkness of his nursery. The first night I had gasped in fright - the light from the lamp I'd been holding had been reflected right back at me from those shining orbs, and for one moment, I'd thought someone other than my son had been looking at me. I knew exactly where he got his eyes from, but I dared not tell anyone.

"My mother had the same." I lied to them as I had to Raoul. No one in my life had ever met my mother, so I thought it safe to go with this. The one photo I had of her showed her looking toward my father, which meant it was impossible to tell how dark her eyes had truly been.

After lunch, Clara asked to hold him and Henri continued questioning me. I knew he was just interested, but some of the questions were making me uncomfortable.

"Does he enjoy being with Raoul as much as being with you?"

"Well, Raoul's been very busy lately," I began, pouring myself more tea. "So they haven't had much alone time together, but they do love each other."

"I think he loves me, too." Clara laughed, pulling faces at my son. "You can just leave him behind, Christine. I am sure Henri and I will be quite capable of taking care of him from now on."

I got home later than I expected, with Gustave asleep in my arms. I didn't know if I'd missed dinner or not, but put Gustave to bed without asking. I could wait until breakfast. Clara and Henri had made a huge afternoon tea that I hadn't been able to finish, so I doubted I would go hungry.

"Where have you been?" Raoul's voice aked quietly from the door.

I turned to give him a smile as I tucked Gustave in, but it slipped from my face at the serious expression Raoul had.

"I went to visit Clara and Henri. So they could meet Gustave."

"I got home early." Raoul's face eased after hearing where I'd gone, and he began walking into the room. He kissed the top of my head and leaned over to brush Gustave's blonde hair gently. "I had a special evening planned for us, but you missed dinner."

"I'm sorry, Raoul." I apologised honestly. Raoul had been so good to me the last few weeks, and I hadn't even given him any thought this afternoon. I'd been enjoying myself too much.

"That's alright, Christine." his arm slipped down my arm and caught my hand as he began pulling me in the direction of my bedroom. Once our door was closed, he scooped me up and pressed me againt the wall, kissing my neck roughly.

"Raoul," I gasped, automatically cringing away from his neck. It felt horrible and made my stomach squirm, but he didn't stop.

"I've missed you, Christine." he sighed, his fingers knotting in my curls.

For some reason I was unable to shut my mind off like I had once done. Perhaps it was because I had gone too long being happy and treasuring every moment since Gustave had been born? I wasn't sure. Either way, it meant I had to act like I was enjoying myself lest Raoul believe otherwise. I did as he asked me, and tried my hardest not to pull away from his touch. When, at long last, he had fallen asleep, I rolled away from him and hid my face in my pillow, feeling tears sting my eyes.

I didn't want to go back to how I'd been before Gustave had arrived. For some strange reason, I'd thought things between myself and Raoul would be different. Why couldn't things just feel right between us? He'd been so wonderful the last three weeks, and I'd fallen completely in love with him all over again, but the uncomfortable feelings of our past intimate moments returned when all I wanted was for them to disappear. I felt like I was the one ruining our marriage, and I didn't want things to go back to how they'd been before.

I knew Raoul had felt me slipping away from him, and that I was the reason for the few times he'd shown up drunk and uncaring. I wanted to find a way to please him as best I could, but that meant making myself miserable in the process. So here I was, stuck in a marriage I could never feel perfect in with no way to get out.

Things stayed this way for months. I would spend my day acting happy for anyone who saw me, then wish for nothing more but to be able to shut myself down during my nights with my husband. He didn't seem to notice my being uncomfortable, but I knew not even my acting skills were up to scratch in these situations.

Gustave was my only reason to keep myself switched on. We spent our days roaming from the library to the drawing room, and I would sang for him all the time. He watched me with his eyes wide whenever I did, completely silent, and sometimes I lost myself in those eyes...he watched me the same way his father had when I sung.

I was so unhappy with my life that I couldn't channel all the hate toward myself, so I mentally took it out on other people. I hated Meg, for leaving me in a situation like this. I still hadn't heard anything from her since the night before my wedding, and though I was worried about her and her mother, I felt they were okay. I knew if she'd still been around for me I would not have been this depressed. I needed my best friend back, and it didn't seem like she would be returning to me.

I was angry at Raoul, for not being who I thought he was. I didn't know if I'd changed him myself, and I _did _blame myself for not feeling how I should have toward him, but at times he did seem rather forceful and it scared me a little. I told myself that Raoul would never hurt me purposefully, but he did without meaning to sometimes, and I didn't want to tell him incase I broke his heart. It couldn't have been any easier living with a wife who didn't correctly return your feelings.

Most of all, I was angry with Erik. I hated him for leaving me here. It was all his fault that I had to live with a lie every day. Yes, I called Gustave Raoul's son, and I had tried to get rid of thoughts of him as much as I could, but he still haunted my mind at times. I had no idea what our life would have been like together had he stayed, but I felt as though I had deserved the chance to find out. How dare he just leave me like he had? All of Paris was under the impression that he had perished, and I wondered if that were true. But if he hadn't, had he even thought about me since the night we'd shared together? Did he think of me as one giant mistake? Oh, the things I could say to him if he were standing in front of me right now...

I frustratedly grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the side of the room and took a seat on the piano stool, Gustave mumbling away happily in my lap. I leaned against the piano and began writing a letter, knowing it would never be in his hands, but writing it even so.

_Erik,  
I wish you could see me now, and feel the amount of pain I have been in since you left. Every morning I wake, hoping to find something different, but it's always the same. And all because of you.  
Why did you leave me that morning? Were you ashamed of me? Did you realise I wasn't, in fact, the girl you were supposed to be with? Did our feelings somehow seep into each other's bodies, Erik, because since then I haven't been able to think of anything but how perfect we were together. I can't even find it within me to enjoy myself with my husband. If you hadn't taken me that night, I might not have known the difference, and loved Raoul with every part of me as I had before, but now all I think of is how imperfect our marriage is, and though I don't want to, I know what we could have had would have felt more right. You're haunting me, Erik.  
I see you every day, in our son's eyes, and it hurts. I don't even know if you're alive, and not knowing makes my heart ache even more than it would have if I thought you had just abandoned me. But I will never know. And all I can do now is wish for you to leave my mind and give me some piece to concentrate on fixing the marriage I've ruined for myself.  
With unconditional love, forever and ever,  
Your angel._

I set Gustave down on the bench, just for the moment, and crossed to the fireplace, holding the letter tightly in my hand before throwing it into the flames. As I watched it catch alight and shrivel, tears began pouring from my eyes. How I wished he would somehow find a way to read it, but I knew that would never happen.

Even after the letter had turned to nothing but ash, I continued to look into the flames, my face now hot and burning from being too close for such a long time. I was broken out of my trance-like state by a loud noise from behind me, and turned to see Gustave happily hitting at the keys of the piano, creating chords that didn't work at all and that were too loud to be comfortable. Even so, somehow they sounded joyous, as if they were being written from someone who was especially happy. The sound immediately soothed my broken soul, and I wiped the tears from my eyes before taking Gustave's hands in my own and stopping him.

"No, Gustave." I murmured, kissing the top of his head. I pulled him into my arms and held him closely to me, breathing him in before I heard someone clearing their throat at the entrance to the room.

"Raoul," I turned and tried to smile as I spotted my husband leaning against the door frame, but it was difficult. His eyes were unfocused and I could see him swaying slightly as he stood. "Have you been drinking again?"

"Get off my back, Christine." he growled. "You obviously don't want me arond when I'm sober...the least you could do is show me compassion when I'm not."

"What are you talking about, Raoul?" I asked, walking past him quickly to take Gustave to his room. I didn't want him around his father while he was in such a state.

"Don't you act like an idiot to me, Christine. I've seen how disgusted you look when I touch you." he rolled his eyes and followed me up the stairs. I blushed at his words and hoped there wasn't any staff close enough to us to be able to hear what he was saying. "You'd rather spend all of your time with that child than even an hour with me."

I stopped and turned to him angrily, cradling Gustave protectively to my chest. _"That child,"_ I repeated, "Is our son, Raoul. He's a part of the both of us, and he needs to be taken care of. I'm not about to leave him to take care of you all day."

"Take care of me," he repeated with a low chuckle.

I shook my head at him, dumbfounded by his attitude, and turned to open the door to Gustave's nursery. I set him down to sleep, though I knew he wouldn't be tired yet, and pulled the blankets over him as if they would serve as a way to keep him safe. I knew Raoul would never hurt either of us, but he was a different person when he'd been drinking, and I was worried.

He'd followed us into the nursery, and I felt his hands curl around my waist and pull my back into his chest. "You can take care of me right now, Christine."

"No, thank you, Raoul." I gasped, trying to pull out of his grasp. "I'd rather wait until you're sober."

"You'll do no such thing." he turned me, grabbing my wrists as I lifted my hands to push him away, and kissed me visciously.

I tried to call out for someone to find us, but I wasn't able to. Raoul began tugging me toward our bedroom and tears leaked out of my eyes once the door was closed, blocking me off from getting help. I felt him push me back and I landed on the bed, crawling away from him desperately. "Raoul, please...you've been drinking. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly enough to know I want to take what's mine," he grabbed both of my wrists tightly and held me, stopping me from getting further away from him and I cried pathetically, just wishing this was all over. I knew if I didn't struggle he'd finish with me earlier, but it was impossible. He hurt me.

When it was over, Raoul extinguished the one lamp beside our bed and I tried to catch my breath, not being able to calm down. Raoul had taken advantage of me. I slid out of the bed and grabbed my dress, holding it to me as if it would protect me. I stayed on the floor as I dressed, then slipped out of the room quickly, not being able to be near him for another moment. I went to Gustave's room. He was sleeping, and his relaxed form seemed to calm me down a little bit.

I put one of his stuffed bears behind my back and curled up on the rocking chair, wishing there was a lock on the door. But I knew that if I locked the door behind me Raoul would probably get more angry at me, and I didn't want to anything to upset him. I watched my son for hours, not being able to sleep. I was scared that if I fell asleep Raoul would come for me again, and I wouldn't be able to run.

Gustave began crying a couple of hours before dawn, and I immediately scooped him out of his blankets and held him tightly to myself, giving the both of us comfort. I fed him, praying he'd keep quiet in case Raoul woke up, then let him fall back to sleep in my arms. I was too selfish to put him back to bed. I needed support, and I knew my son was the best way to get it. Besides, standing up to get him made me realise how sore I was from Raoul, and I didn't want to bring back any more memories than were already swimming inside my mind.

I heard Raoul wake up and hoped he wouldn't come and find me after seeing our bed empty. On his way to leave the door of the nursery opened and I rested my head against the back of the rocking chair and pretended to be sleeping. I could feel my hands beginning to shake at the thought of him being so closed to me and tried desperately to stop it. He bent down in front of the chair and I heard him kiss Gustave's forehead. He didn't do the same to me, and it was only after I heard the door close and his footsteps make their way down the hall that I dared to open my eyes.

* * *

**...we always want more reason for Erik to hate Raoul when he shows up again, don't we?**

**Reviews would make my day after a fortnight of life-determining tests and a week to come of going off to work an hour and a half before sunrise!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I came straight home from my first audition with an actual theatre company to post this. They singled me out from everyone else auditioning. Someone drag me down into catacombs where no one can ever find me again, please.**

* * *

Raoul couldn't even look at me for the next four days. I certainly wasn't going to bring up what had happened, and I did not want him to, either. What I wanted more than anything, was to get the Raoul I used to love back. One I could fall in love with all over again and feel things for him that I had yet to feel.

If I was being completely honest, I was scared of my husband. I was grateful for the silent period we had in between us, and for once, didn't completely blame myself. Though, I knew that if I'd acted the way a rightful wife does, this wouldn't have happened to me.

Each night I would sit with Gustave until he went to sleep, then dressed for bed and closed my eyes before Raoul would follow me in. I knew he went in to check on our son after me, but never stayed too long.

On the last night of our silent period, I was standing on the small balcony, looking into the gardens below me. I knew Raoul would be coming in soon, and I couldn't care less. All our relationship consisted of now was sleeping beside each other without touching, without acknowledging the other's presence.

I heard the doors closed, then listened to him changing from his suit into his sleepwear. I knew he was getting closer and closer to me, and my heart began racing, but I didn't turn.

"Christine," he said softly, waiting for me to respond. I told myself I wouldn't. I was scared that I would begin crying if he said anything that brought back the memories I'd been desperately trying to repress. "Please answer me."

I looked over my shoulder at him, my eyes wide in worry and he took another step forward, holding out his hand, but I shrugged away from him.

"You scared me, Raoul." I murmured quietly. He lowered his eyes in guilt. "I've never been so scared in all my life."

"Come now, Christine, you know I wasn't in the best of states -"

"That did not give you an excuse." I shot back angrily, turning to face him completely. "How dare you think that, just because you've been drinking, you have the right to take advantage of me in such a way!"

"I didn't plan to -"

"You hurt me, Raoul! In more ways than one! Do you know how scared I've been of sleeping beside you the last few nights? What are the chances that it will happen again, Raoul?"

"There aren't any chances, Christine," he took my hands, and my fingers shook within his grasp. He held them tightly to stop them and looked at me desperately. "Believe me. I won't ever do that to you again. I haven't been able to look at myself since...as soon as it was over, I felt terrible."

"You're lying." I closed my eyes and lowered my face to the ground. "You had no problem sleeping that night."

"I couldn't even concentrate on my work the next day." he told me. "All I've wanted to do since I woke that next morning was hold you and tell you how sorry I am."

"Then why did you do it?" I shrieked, pulling my hands out of his. I held my arm out to stop him getting any closer to me. "What made you drink yourself so close to insanity?"

"I drank because of you." he said gently. I stopped and frowned at him, wondering where he was getting at.

"What?"

He sighed and rubbed his face with both of his hands before continuing. "Since we were married I've felt that you don't want me...as if you've been avoiding moments we could spend together. Christine, that's all I want in the entire world. It's heartbreaking not recieving the same."

"I'm sorry, Raoul." I gasped. "I thought things would be different, too -"

"What things, Christine?" his voice raised in frustration and he shook his head at me. "Why aren't things how you imagined? Did I lose my charm once we were married or something? Am I not the man you want to be with?"

No. He wasn't. "Of course you are, Raoul. You've just been different...I keep thinking the Raoul from months ago at the opera house; the same Raoul from when we were children, is a completely different person to the one who frightened me so much earlier this week. I don't _want_ to feel this way, Raoul. I want to want you back, but I'm finding it difficult. I'm sure, with time, my old feelings will come back, but as of now, I need time to repair myself - to tell myself you are every bit as perfect as I believed you to be when our love blinded me in the first place."

His shoulders relaxed, and he held out his hand, his sad eyes looking out at me. I swallowed and eyed his hand for a second before placing my fingers in his palm. His own fingers curled around them and he tugged me gently toward him before enveloping me in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into the brown curls that fell over my ear. "I'll make it up to you. We'll do whatever you want. A family day. I'll take a break from work and make you happy."

"Raoul, it's fine, really." I insisted, my heart slowly calming down.

"No, I want to." he said quietly. I could hear the sadness in his voice, and for some reason I felt guilty. I told myself I was being stupid; he was in the wrong here, but I didn't believe it. I'd caused sadness to him, too. It seemed that was all I was able to bring to those I loved most. I vowed never to make Gustave feel that way.

"I'm tired." I finally said, my face still pressed into his shoulder. His arms loosened around me and he pulled away, extending his hand to me once again. I took it, and he pulled me slowly to our bed, kissing me softly on the forehead as I made myself comfortable beneath the blankets.

"Goodnight, Raoul." I murmured, closing my eyes once the lamp was put out and the only light was from the moon shining in through the two doors we'd just walked through - Raoul had allowed the drapes to stay open, probably in a way of making things better for me.

"Christine...say you love me." he whispered.

I bit my lip in the darkness before answering. "You know I do."

I felt his arm wrap around me, and I froze for a moment, but relaxed when his hands didn't wander any further. "Goodnight, Christine."

}~*~{

Raoul certainly outdid himself at planning the perfect day. The day Gustave turned six months old, my husband told me to put on my favourite dress and grab a hat. I wondered where we were going, excitement bubbling away in my stomach. I dressed Gustave quickly and grinned as he chirped away happily in his tiny, angelic voice. He may not have been able to talk yet, but the noises he made always seemed to sound like music. I, myself, hadn't sung for a while again. I didn't know why, but I just hadn't felt like it.

"Where are we going?" I laughed as Raoul took my hand in his own. He took Gustave from me, as well, and our son put his head sleepily onto his father's shoulder, watching me silently.

"Surprise. You'll have to wait and see." he said with a smile.

There was a driver and carriage waiting on the road outside our home. Raoul helped me inside gently, then followed after me, sitting Gustave in his lap. I noticed a picnic basket on the seat beside me and raised my eyebrow toward my husband, but he continued not to give anything away, speaking softly to Gustave instead.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us were sitting comfortably underneath a wide tree in a beautiful park with small cakes and sandwiches on the blankets beside us. Raoul and I both laughed at Gustave, yellow icing from the cakes smeared across his lips as he chatted away to himself.

"He's so beautiful, Christine. Like you."

"He is," I agreed, blushing slightly at Raoul's comment. Here he was again; the boy I'd fallen in love with what seemed like such a long time ago.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend more time like this with you, Christine." he told me honestly. I looked up at him from our son and he took my hand. "I'm going to try harder, though. We'll have more days as a family. Even if it just means having lunch in the gardens, I'll see to it that it happens. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Raoul." I said. It seemed as though I were talking to someone I hadn't seen since before the incident. I hadn't felt precisely this way about him since before being dragged down into the Phantom's lair the last time. I flinched. I hadn't given such things any thought since the letter I'd written and burned. That had certainly gotten a lot off my chest for at least this long, but now I felt it all rushing back, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong?" Raoul asked, concerned. His fingers lifted my chin so I was looking at him and he watched me closely. "What is it that's bothering you?"

"No one, Raoul." I said, only realising my words once they'd slipped out of my mouth. Raoul seemed to know exactly who was disturbing my thoughts, because his eyes became angry.

"He's gone, Christine. He can't hurt you anymore. You know very well he's dead."

Tears filled my eyes, and he attempted to wipe them away, continuing to tell me everything would be alright. He must have thought my tears were caused by fear of the thought of the 'monster', as I knew Raoul would have called him, coming back for me. This wasn't the case, however, though I would never tell Raoul that.

The last line Raoul had said still rang in my ears, and that caused more tears to escape. I hated admitting it, but I believed it also. I tried to find something positive out of all of it - there's always a silver lining, isn't there? I told myself that I preferred to believe that he'd really been killed and unable to return to me instead of choosing to stay away from me. That was immensly painful, and had broken my heart in the earlier days of my marriage...to think that I could feel so much for just one person, and not have it returned? If he was still alive, had he forgotten about me completely? I'd been trying so hard to rid him from my mind, but it seemed impossible at times. I'd been doing better. I'd gone days, purposefully distracting myself from thought of him.

That moment was no different. I scooped Gustave up, into my arms and began talking to him as Raoul's arms wrapped around the both of us. Seeing my son so happy eased my thoughts at once, and I was able to push everything else out of my mind and laugh with him. I felt Raoul's lips on the top of my head, and I turned slightly to face him. He hadn't kissed me since...

Though I'd convinced myself that I would never be able to miss the feeling of Raoul's lips against my own, I'd gone longer without it than I had since before our wedding, and now, sitting with him, thinking of him as the same Raoul from such a long time ago, it was something I actually wanted.

He seemed to get the idea of what I was doing and leaned in, closing in on my face ever so gently. He kissed me softly, slowly, and hesitantly. I sighed against his face, surprised at the feeling. It was as if my feelings for Raoul had truly returned to how they used to be. I was enjoying this. With him this way, I felt as though I could kiss him forever.

Gustave struggled in my arms, making me pull away from my husband to gather our son back into my arms properly. I smiled widely at Raoul, who was watching me thoughtfully, his eyes still half-closed. I leaned forward once more to press my nose against his for the slightest of moments, then sunk into his arms, giving a small yawn.

"This has been a lovely day, Raoul."

His arms tightened around my waist and I felt his chin rest against the top of my head. He reached out with one hand to extend his finger to Gustave, who held onto it tightly, beginning to talk once again.

"You're in a good mood today, aren't you, Little Vicomte?" I asked, lifting him high into the air above us as he giggled and grinned down at us. "You're going to sleep well tonight."

He was asleep before we could reach the estate again, two hours before his usual bed time. I carried him gently to his room and dressed him slowly, taking the time to look over him admiringly. Raoul was right; he was absolutely beautiful. When he was in his pyjamas I tucked him into bed, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving the room and entering my own. I sat at the small desk in front of my mirror and began pulling hair pins from my head, letting my curls fall over my shoulders and down my back. The door opened behind me and Raoul entered, pausing to watch me with a small smile on his face.

He approached me and ran his fingers through my hair, bending down to press a kiss to the top of my head. "Dinner will be ready in an hour, though I doubt we'll eat much." he said with a small chuckle. I smiled and caught his hand as it slid from my shoulder.

"Raoul, I had such a good time today."

"As did I," he agreed.

I continued, my eyes on our hands clasped together. "I feel how I used to again...how I did when you brought back my scarf...how I used to at the opera house."

His hand tightened around my own and he pulled me to my feet, looking down at me with eyes full of happiness. I slid my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to mine once again, letting myself get used to the kiss before deepening it.

The kiss wasn't uncomfortable at all. It was quite nice, actually. It was just that I'd felt better before, though I couldn't understand why it had been better. This kind of kissing was comfortable. I could continue with it without a problem or stop it when I wanted to, and as soon as this thought slipped into my mind I found one difference between this pair of lips and the only other I'd had.

It had been so hard for me to stop with...the other person. As soon as our lips had joined each other, I'd known of nothing else. With Raoul, everything was still around me. I could feel the presence of our son in the next room, and I could hear the faint voices of the staff below our feet. Thoughts of our day were still present in my mind, and a tiny part of me was wondering what was being made for dinner, but it was pleasant.

My heart began to quicken when I felt him lead me over to our bed, but I pushed myself to continue. If I didn't try with him, things would probably never get better, and this seemed like the best time to go on. What I felt for him right now was more than I'd felt for him since before our wedding, and I wasn't about to let it go without progressing.

Things carried on almost as smoothly. For the first time, we made love during day light hours, and I gazed up at him, wondering how things could have improved so greatly between us. It had never been like this before. Raoul was completely gentle with me and cradled me in his arms, kissing me softly and making me believe he loved me more than anything. It still wasn't what I'd had, but it was everything I'd asked for with Raoul. I never expected to feel that forbidden way again, and wanted nothing more than to forget about it completely.

Afterwards, Raoul held me tightly to him and continued kissing my cheeks and forehead, telling me how much he loved me.

"I love you too, Raoul." I said with a small smile. He leaned over to check the time and groaned, pushing himself up. "Dinner's been waiting for us. We should probably make an appearance." he pulled me up with him and ran his hands down my bare back, kissing me slowly once more before swinging his legs out of bed. I grabbed my dress and pulled it back over my head, not bothering with my corset - I was extremely tired and knew I would just be coming back upstairs to get into my nightgown anyway. Dinner wasn't worth it.

Raoul held my hand all the way down to the dining room, finally letting me go when we sat on opposite sides of the table. Even then, he smiled across at me, and I grinned back, happier than I'd been since Gustave had been born. This was all I'd wanted; to be able to show myself my feelings for Raoul were still present and I could stil have a happy marriage. Now it had been proved, and I couldn't help but think our lives together would be perfect forevermore.

If only things could have stayed that way...


	13. Chapter 13

Raoul continued to be the man I had fallen in love with throughout the first few years of our marriage. There were only a few nights where he had resorted to drinking, but I didn't mention it to him. He never became violent toward me again, and I didn't want to set him off. Besides, even the best of men were weakened by the temptation of alcohol at one point or another.

I noticed small things in our relationship that made me wonder if Raoul had not completely forgotten about the incidents at the opera house. I, for one, had done my best to forget, knowing deep down I never would. Memories of the night I'd been dragged down into that cold, unwelcoming lair still haunted me in flashes before my eyes every time I stepped into the opera house, but I didn't linger on them. I'd forced myself to forget the feelings I'd had that night, the thoughts that had run through my mind, what I'd said, what _he'd _said...

I didn't think his name. It never entered my mind. For almost four years, I'd managed to keep it pushed away, as though it were one of the tiny memories of my childhood I thought about rarely, but did not understand. At times I wondered if it had even been real, but just looking at my beautiful son as proof enough to make me believe.

Raoul and I did not attend as many operas as we originally would have. He took me to quite a few ballets, however, which weren't as entertaining for me, but made the both of us more comfortable. Though, there were times when our presence was requested by Andre and Firmin at certain operas and we never denied. Raoul's fingers were always clasped extra tightly with my own when we walked through those doors.

When Raoul was working, I either spend time in the garden with Gustave, shopping for dresses in town, or had lunch at Clara and Henri's house. They had two children of their own now; a daughter of two and another of ten months. Gustave cherished the moments we spent at their house. He always stated that his Aunt Clara made the best sandwiches, and he was happiest when spending time with Henri or their eldest daughter, Ivy.

I was happy. At least I thought I was. I'd gone so long living without something that I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like. I told myself not to wish for anything more. I was surrounded by people who loved me, and that was all I could ever want. I had a good life, with nice clothes and wonderful friends. I was waited on at my home, though sometimes I wished I could do work for once, and had the most beautiful son in the world, and every time I made my way onto the streets of Paris and met up with someone I knew vaguely from my life with Raoul, they would always comment on how perfect the two of us were for each other and how they could tell we were still one hundred percent in love after all of this time.

I wasn't going to lie to myself; our exterior was always bright and we smiled sweetly at each other constantly, giving the world a perfect vision of pure happiness, but we both knew it wasn't that simple.

Raoul and I hadn't been the same since before our marriage. There had been a short time when I thought I was going to sink back into the way I used to love him when Gustave had only been half a year old, but that hadn't been the case. Raoul still returned home most days as the loving husband and father he could be, and during our outings, he would be a perfect gentleman, but the passion I'd thought we had once shared had not come back as strongly as I'd wished. At times all I wanted to do was tell him to take his hands off me, but I didn't do such a thing. I wasn't _uncomfortable _with him anymore, but I wasn't completely comfortable, either. A lot of the time all I wanted to do was sleep, or read, but I didn't dare tell him this.

I knew Raoul could sense the slight tension between us, too, but he put on the same façade as I did. We lied to the public, we lied to each other, and we lied to ourselves. We had everyone believe we were the happiest couple in all of France, no question.

Anyone who had been close to me in the past would have known something was wrong. I had become a different person during my marriage. I didn't even sing anymore. It felt wrong. Like I should be singing for one person and one person only. Raoul didn't appreciate it when I sung, and sometimes even asked me to be quiet. There was no point in singing to myself. I didn't want to prove to myself that my voice was better than I sometimes believed. I decided just to try my best to forget about that, too; to make it something of the past.

One particular day, a couple of months after Gustave's fourth birthday, I'd been in the garden, on my knees as I wore an old dress stained with dirt and grass. Gardening was one of the few things Raoul and the staff of the house allowed me to do. Apparently it wasn't necessary to cook or clean for my husband at all, but after months of gently complaining of not having anything to do, they'd accepted the fact that I was going to purchase flower seeds and have them grow to my liking around the estate.

It was almost lunch time, and I had been tending to a patch of zinnias when a strange, yet wonderful sound had entered through my ears, held me captivated, and forced me to rise from my knees and follow it slowly through the front door of our house.

I hadn't even thought of what was happening during those moments. The sound had made me lose all thoughts of the present, and all I'd known was that something beautiful was happening. It was something that had happened to me before, but I didn't dwell on it. He was someone I had pushed from my life as much as possible.

After a few moments, I found myself at the entrance of the drawing room, still covered in dirt with my floppiest of hats on the top of my head and my gardening gloves hiding my hands away from the world. I'd peered into the drawing room, completely lost in the sound that was taking me for its own, and froze.

Gustave sat at the piano, which had hardly been used in the years I had lived there for, and was playing with the same level of technique I'd imagined Mozart had posessed at his age. His eyes were unfocused, facing the keys of the piano, as if he weren't really concentrating on the physical side of his playing, just the emotional side. And there was certainly a lot of emotion in the music which carried through the halls. It made my heart race and tears burn behind my eyes to see my son, so perfect already, showing off God-like talents as though they were something perfectly trivial.

What frightened me about the whole situation was that he had never had a lesson. As far as I'd known he hadn't even watched someone play the piano, except for the few times he had attended performances with myself and Raoul. I, myself, had never heard him play before. Surely this could not have been his first time?

"Gustave," I called his name softly, breaking myself from the music enough to gather my thoughts. Only one other person had been able to put me in such a trance-like state with their music before, and that worried me. What a frustrating situation I had gotten myself into!

My son immediately pulled his hands from the keys, as if he had been caught stealing something especially valuable by its owner, and his amber-black eyes glanced up at me silently, so knowledgable despite his years.

"Sorry, mother." he murmured in his angelic voice. Raoul constantly remarked that he had recieved such an instrument from myself, but I knew it had come from someone greater.

"Darling...have you ever played before?" I asked him, trying to appear nonchalant, though my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

He dropped his gaze once more in an ashamed way. "Yes. I've played while you were in town, and once when father took you to dinner. Today I just walked past on my way to the kitchens and couldn't help myself. I'm sorry,"

"No, I understand, darling." I stopped beside him and pulled my gloves off, sitting on the bench and turning him away from the piano to face me. "Music is something I find difficult to stay away from, as well."

"Really?"

"Yes...however your father doesn't see things the same way as us. I know it's hard, my darling, but we have to consider his feelings, too."

"Does that mean I can't play anymore?" I could feel the pain in his voice as I listened to these words and looked warily toward the entrance of the room.

"No, Gustave. Just refrain from playing when your father is around. He prefers his peace and quiet after being so busy at work all day."

"Of course." he said simply. I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, my precious angel."

"I love you too, _Maman_."

That afternoon, I briefly explained to any of the staff that would have heard that I had been teaching Gustave what little piano I knew and that he'd picked it up quite well. I also did my best to make it clear that he was learning to surprise his father, so hinted at them to keep it a secret. The last thing I needed was Raoul to hear how talented our son was and become suspicious. There were only a few beings God gave the earth that could play so wonderfully, and though, of course, I was extremely proud of my son, I hoped our husband would never find out. Or at least not for years, until it was understandable that our son had progressed so magnificently.

Gustave was like breathing for me. Most mornings he was the first thing I thought about, and during the day I cherished the moments I spend alone with him. He was already very handsome, in an adorable kind of way. He had wispy, but thick, dark hair that fell neatly and skin that seemed so pale beside my own. His eyes were magnificent, and at times distracted me. They were so dark and deep. At times they picked up a golden glow, usually when he was staring toward the sun, but in total darkness, I would catch a flash off them. Like the eyes of a fox. I didn't know if Raoul had noticed such a strange thing to have come from our son, but he didn't mention it to me, so I could only hope.

Raoul hadn't been around half of the time for Gustave's upbringing, but they still managed to get along well; something I was grateful for. I was happiest when I woke late in the day to find Raoul at home, spending time with our son.

A couple of months before summer something happened to alter the way of life we'd slipped into. I woke early, dressed for church and pinned my hair before making my way down to the kitchen to have breakfast with Gustave before we left. I'd expected Raoul to be away for work, but he was sitting at the small table in the drawing room and called me back as I passed. I wandered into the room slowly, smiling sweetly at the two men Raoul had been speaking to. It was Andre and Firmin.

"Good morning, Messieurs," I greeted politely.

"Morning, Madame," Firmin said, using his business voice. Raoul stood to give me a quick kiss, then sat again.

"We're just organising the benefit night at the opera house." he told me. He looked like he thought I would be interested to hear. I just nodded, until Andre spoke up.

"We're bringing back all of our most successful acts for the night. Just crowd drawers. We're planning on making it an annual thing."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Where are you off to?" Raoul asked, leaving the conversation as he gazed at me.

My hands tightened on my hat. We went through this almost every week he was at home... "It's a Sunday, Raoul. Gustave and I are going to church." My husband usually worked the mornings, and attended nightly services alongside myself and Gustave, if he wasn't too tired.

"Ah, of course," he cleared his throat. "Such a shame I can't join you again this week. But we have a lot to sort out here." he motioned to a list that was sitting in the table between the three of them. It was a list of names. I only recognised a few of them; they were names of performers from the opera house.

Andre and Firmin glanced at each other, then up at me. "Perhaps you would like to perform?"

"Me?" I repeated, stunned. I couldn't even gather words. What could I say? _Oh, no, sorry. My husband is still traumatised from what happened last time I sung for you..._

"Well, you were our most successful performer once."

"I'm sure reprinting the name Christine Daaé would _fill_ the opera house."

I glanced hesitantly at Raoul, who was frowning thoughtfully at me. "I don't think that's the best idea, gentlemen."

"And why not? Think of what this could mean to us." Firmin tapped his finger against more papers on the table and Raoul shook his head.

"She hasn't performed in years. She doesn't even sing anymore. I don't think it would be the same."

I suddenly felt a surge of anger toward my husband. I could manage perfectly, thank you very much! "I'm sure I haven't lost my voice completely." I murmured, looking away from Raoul. That meant I didn't see the look he shot at me. I was positive I didn't want to.

"That's the spirit!" Andre said cheerfully. He handed me a small poster of what they had so far.

"Now, we're not saying she's singing," Raoul clarified sternly.

"No, no, of course not." Firmin agreed.

"Just make sure you have an answer by this time next week. We'd love it if you joined us. I'm sure the public's been very interested in what you've been doing with your music, Christine. Let's hope you agree to share it with them again."

I nodded uncomfortably and was spared by my son, who had taken a place at the door and was looking in curiously. "Are you ready to go, _maman_?"

"Yes, darling," I rested my hand on Raoul's shoulder one last time and began to leave the room. "Good day, gentlemen."

"And to you, Madame."


	14. Chapter 14

**Really sorry about the wait! I truly am. I've had such a busy week, and right now I'm still completely stressed, but I'm going to work really hard to have the next chapter up shortly! (Within days, hopefully.)**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed since I posted the last chapter!**

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I skipped breakfast. Usually Gustave and I would go back to Clara's house after church, so I planned on eating there instead.

I was still holding the flyer Andre had given me that morning and studied it every once in a while as Gustave chattered away happily about what he and Ivy were going to do after lunch. Apparently I wasn't paying him enough attention because he snatched the piece of paper from my hands before I could react.

"What's this?"

"Nothing. Just information for a benefit night your father is organising with Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin."

"Why do you have it?"

"I'm interested is all, darling."

He watched me closely for a moment, then spoke again. "I heard them ask you if you would perform."

"Gustave! You know better than to eavesdrop!" I wanted to get off this subject straight away. I knew if Gustave was trying to talk me into performing, it would be almost impossible to say no. He was quite manipulative with things like this. Just like his father. What made it worse was that my child was incredibly smart, despite not even having reached his fifth year, and was able to make people see things from his point of view. Which always seemed to make more sense, funnily enough.

"Why don't you sing, mother? Are you good?"

"I was once."

"Are you now?"

"I don't think so, Gustave." I sighed.

"Well, you won't know if you are if you don't try. Why don't you sing for me and I can tell you?"

"Not now, Gustave." I made my voice last stern at his last sentence and silenced him.

We sat with Clara's family for the service, and I constantly nudged Gustave, who was whispering small things to Ivy and recieving glances from the people around us. Eventually he listened to me and sat back with his arms folded, irritably.

There was only a short walk back to Clara and Henri's house, and the streets were beautiful the whole way. I helped her make sandwiches, then we all sat around the small table and had a long conversation. It was going wonderfully, until Gustave decided to bring our conversation up from that morning.

"Mother's going to sing for the Opera Populaire's benefit night."

I shot him a look that told him to stop talking, but he just grinned around the table. Clara was the first to speak.

"Oh, you are? Oh, Christine, that's wonderful! I always wondered if you missed it."

I shook my head and took a long sip of tea, trying to decided what to say next. "I haven't said I'm going to sing yet. I was asked this morning. Raoul doesn't think it's such a good idea."

"She thinks she can't sing." Gustave said. Henri raised his eyebrow, which my son caught. "Have you heard her sing?"

"I have,"

"When?"

"I believe I saw your mother in _Hannibal_. I had tickets to see _Don Juan Triumphant _as well, but -" he stopped short and Gustave sat up straighter in his chair. I shook my head desperately at Henri.

"Why didn't you see that one?"

"It stopped running." I explained shortly. "There was an accident and the opera house caught fire."

"That's a shame," my son went back to eating his sandwich, still listening to us as we changed the subject.

Gustave had never learned of what had happened at the opera house. Raoul and I didn't speak of it. My son had hardly known that I could sing. I'd been sure not to sing in front of him since he'd been old enough to understand, just because Raoul was so uncomfortable when I did. The last thing I wanted was him asking us questions about the Phantom of the Opera. Such things captivated his young mind, and he'd probably never drop the subject.

After lunch, Henri took the children out, into the back yard and left Clara and I sitting at the table. She watched me for a moment and I knew what was coming.

"I never heard you sing."

"There's better out there than myself, Clara." In all the years I'd known her, she hadn't brought it up. I'd assumed she hadn't been interested. She wasn't the type who enjoyed going to watch operas, and instead preferred to stay at home and read a book.

"Not from what I've heard." she said with a small smirk. "I do recall your voice was described as..._unearthly?_"

"Things change. I don't sing anymore."

"And was that your decision, or your husband's?"

I gave her an outraged look. No one ever spoke of my husband negatively. No one but Clara. I'd noticed her do it on a few occasions now, and it made me uneasy. "You know very well Raoul can't just stop me from singing."

"But he can alter your way of thinking to make you believe you don't want to do it." she lifted her mug to her mouth, watching me the entire time. "I think you should do it, Christine."

"Are you just saying that so I'll go against what Raoul wants?"

"There's a first time for everything." she said with a small shrug. Oh, if only she knew just how much I'd gone against Raoul at the beginning of our marriage...

}~*~{

The idea of singing sunk further and further into my mind. It seemed as though at every moment it was teasing me, reminding me of the hopeful faces Firmin and Andre had given me.

The truth was, I wanted to sing. More than almost anything. I wanted to let myself know that I was still able to awe a crowd. I wanted Gustave to be proud of me, especially after all of his questions about my voice. I felt bad for snapping at him about it. But more than anything, I wanted to do something Raoul couldn't hold me back from, just to prove to him that I was better than just sitting back and letting him control my life. I know this was wrong; he was my husband, but I couldn't help it. I always felt almost helpless when it came to things like this, and he sometimes seemed smug, as if he knew.

Without realising it, I'd spent years yearning for the moment when I'd be able to step back onto stage in front of a silent crowd and let my voice take over. And this time I would be able to do it for whoever I wanted. I didn't feel as though I owed a debt to anyone for my voice. This time _he _wouldn't be listening. I was going to sing for whoever I wanted while I was up there.

Yes. I was going to do it.

My satisfied smile slipped from my face as I realised what I was going to have to do next. Confront Raoul. I was sure he wasn't going to make this easy for me.

I waited until Thursday night to tell him. I was sitting in bed with a book when he walked through the door and began undressing for sleep.

"Raoul," I murmured quietly from my place.

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking about the offer from Andre and Firmin..."

He suddenly turned to me, dropping is coat on the desk beside him. "Don't you feel as though you're under any pressure, Christine. They're idiots. They're only thinking about what's best for them. If you don't want to sing, don't sing."

"No, Raoul." I closed my book and stood slowly. "I want to sing."

"What?"

"Well, it's been such a long time...and I do miss it. It was my life just years ago. I've felt as though there's something missing for a while now, and what if my music is just that?"

"There's more to your life than music, Christine. You have a family now -"

"Did you know Gustave's never heard me sing?"

"Of course he has. You used to sing to him all the time."

"When he was too young to remember. Raoul, I haven't sung for years!"

"Because it upsets you." he said this as if I were a child and I'd forgotten something simple. I frowned at him, but decided not to get too deep into an argument. I wasn't going to try to say anything smart to bother him. I was just going to stand my ground and show him just how stubborn I could be for the first time in five years.

"It doesn't upset me, Raoul." I said calmly. "I think it upsets you."

He, however, didn't lower his voice. It got louder. "And I think I have every right to be upset about it, Christine!" he stormed forward, catching my shoudlers in his hands and shaking me slightly. "All I think of when you mention singing is what happened last time. I nearly lost you."

"That's over now, Raoul!" I held his face in my hands and he closed his eyes at my touch, his fingers loosening from me. "It's finished. You don't have to worry about it anymore." my voice was so soft now that some of my words got lost, but I continued anyway.

"I'm right here. You have me. I chose you." I told him gently. I closed my eyes as well, lowering my head as tears slipped from my eyes. Yes, I had chosen Raoul. But he hadn't been my final choice. "Just try to forget, Raoul. I've managed, you can too. Leave the past behind."

He finally opened his mouth and raised his hand to hold my wrist lovingly. "I'm sorry, Christine. It's just...when I think of your singing, I think of him. I can't help but feel as though your voice is haunted by him."

"It's _my_ voice, Raoul. He doesn't own it. Didn't," I corrected myself, trying to live by the belief that Paris' Phantom was dead. I sighed and wrapped my arms around my husband's neck, resting my forehead on his chest. He was only wearing a white shirt now and I could feel his heartbeat comforting me against my face. "Please just let me do this. I want to prove to myself that I still can. That I'm not just a hopeless house wife."

"You know you're not." he murmured. I felt his arms curl around me as well and he kissed the top of my head. "But I guess I can't hold you away from this. I have you, so determined, at home, and Firmin and Andre begging me constantly during work. I'm the one that feels hopeless."

I giggled lightly against his shirt and turned my head up to give him a small smile. "Thank you,"

He shook his head and looked at me playfully. "You just better have kept your voice after all this time."

"You won't love me if I can't sing anymore?" I grinned.

"How embarrassing, to be married to an untalented woman."

I snorted and he chuckled before kissing me. His only objections for this were based on the fact of the memories which had haunted him. He didn't seem to care at all that a Vicomte should be shamed at marrying an opera singer. Of course, a performance at a concert was more respectable than acting in an actual opera every night, but I knew there would be people that still did not understand.

I could tell he wasn't happy about this, but he didn't want things between us to be difficult. Neither of us wanted that. I picked my book back up as he dressed in his nightwear and yawned widely, kissing my cheek one last time before putting out his bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, Lotte."

I smiled at the nickname which had survived for so long, resurfacing every now and then between us.

"Sleep well, Raoul."

}~*~{

Raoul accompanied me to the opera house the next morning before Gustave could wake. Our son hadn't brought up anything more about my singing and I was hoping he had dropped the subject completely so I could surprise him when it came closer to the date. I felt like I owed this to him. Gustave was the only person close to me who shared a love of music, and I knew he was going to be the only person to really appreciate my voice. Well, the only person I really cared about appreciating my voice.

"This is where your name will feature on the poster." Firmin pointed out, running his hands along a wide piece of paper on the wall in front of us. I nodded, looking over the colourful writing and taking in everything he was saying. Raoul cleared his throat from behind us.

"Christine _Daaé?"_

"It's her best known name." Andre explained, not looking up from his writing. "Surely the more ignorant audience in Paris would prefer to be entertained by a long forgotten diva with such a history, over a Vicomtess."

"I don't understand." Raoul sighed. He took his place beside me and wrapped his arm around my waist. "Why would they be so ignorant as to not be aware of who she is?"

"Christine Daaé will bring in a larger crowd than la Vicomtess de Changy." Andre assured him with a bored voice.

Raoul looked around uneasily. "Well, as long as Christine approves..."

"It's absolutely fine, Raoul."

He nodded once more and left to busy himself.

Monsieur Reyer, who was still working for the Opera Populaire, presented himself almost an hour after I'd arrived. After greeting each other for the first time in such a long while, we took seats in a couple of chairs and had a lengthy conversation about what I would be performing.

"Nothing from _Don Juan Triumphant_, I'm guessing?" he asked, as though this amused him. I did my best to smile, suddenly feeling ill and suggested something of my own.

"No, most definitely not. But I would prefer to perform something I have previously. Just for old time's sake."

"_Hannibal_? Your first show?"

"Perhaps," memories of being terrified in front of an audience as I sang out to them for the first time flooded through me, and I couldn't help smiling a little. "You wouldn't happen to have the sheet music to _Think Of Me _lying about, would you Monsieur?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! They truly to make my day!**

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So quickly, the night at the opera house was upon us. I had been lucky enough to learn that dear old Carlotta Giudicelli would be performing during the first act, and I couldn't say I was thrilled to be seeing her again.

I powdered my face and pinned my hair elegantly, dressed in my favourite dressing gown, and heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," I smiled when I saw Raoul in the reflection of our bedroom mirror and turned to greet him properly. "You're home early."

"You're my biggest concern tonight. All I want is to make sure everything runs smoothly for you." he said, holding a large yellow box in his arms. "And I bought you something."

"Presents, too," I remarked, a little shocked. He grinned and set the box down on the foot of our bed, pulling at the ribbon gently until he could remove the lid from it.

I gasped and stepped forward as he gently lifted one of the most extravagant dresses I had ever seen, holding it up in front of me.

It was beautiful, with a tight-fitting bodice and a skirt holding magnificent drape that fell gracefully to the floor, ending in a small train. The entire piece was made out of a dark emerald material and covered in lace of the same colour. The sleeves were just completely lace and were made to shape perfectly with my arms.

"Raoul, it's absolutely beautiful."

"I thought you should have a new dress for tonight."

I kissed his cheek gently and took the dress from his hands. "You know very well that I have more than enough dresses to wear. You didn't need to do this."

"But I want you to feel beautiful while you're up there. You don't have any dresses fit for performing at such an event like this one. You're going to look and sound absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you, Raoul." I smiled brightly and folded the dress carefully, replacing it in the box. I would change within the walls of the opera house. "It's perfect."

Gustave, funnily enough, hadn't asked any more of the night at the opera house. I dressed in one of my favourite outfits and met him in the library, where he was reading a book too advanced for his age group.

"Gustave, sweetheart, would you go and change into something a little more dressed-up? We're going out tonight."

He stood immediately and eyed my hair suspisciously. "Where?"

"To the opera house." was all I said before leaving the room.

When the sun had set, a carriage was waiting for us at the front of the manor. Raoul helped me inside, the box containing my new dress tucked safetly under his arm, and took a seat beside our son, who was asking questions excitedly.

"Are we going to have our own box, all to ourselves?"

"Nothing less for my family." Raoul said cheerfully. Obviously he'd eased up about my singing. I was glad. I'd been worried that we would return home afterwards and I would recieve the silent treatment.

Clara and Henri met us outside when we arrived. We walked inside with them and through the building until they departed to find their own seats, then we continued alone to the entrance of the only box Raoul ever reserved. "Will you be sitting with us for the first act?"

"I'll watch from backstage." I insisted with a happy smile. I saw Gustave look between both of us before speaking up.

"Are you performing, mother?" his voice was shocked. I looked down to nod, a wide smile preventing me from speaking. "Oh!" he grinned and began bouncing excitedly. "Quick, father! Let's take our seats so mother can sing!"

Raoul laughed as Gustave attempted to pull him away and gave me a gentle kiss, handing me the box with my dress. "Show them how it's done properly."

"I'll try my hardest." I assured him before making my way to the dressing rooms I'd spent so much of my young life in, surrounded by loud and excited ballerinas. They were almost exactly the same as how I rememered, with only different coloured walls and slight adjustment to the mirror and seating arrangements.

The first half passed smoothly. I watched uneasily as Carlotta performed her piece. She was just as good as she had been years ago. I sighed, wondering if it were too late to back out now. Going up after her was just going to make me seem like a waste of time. I knew the bitter thought would have earned me a scolding from someone else, but there truly had only been one person in my life who had detested the older woman's voice.

My name was the last on the program. I had a feeling Andre and Firmin had done this because my name was the most well known of all the past acts performing tonight; able to pull a bigger crowd. I told myself this was not because of my voice, but what had happened to stir up all of Paris and make me even more well known. Who would not want to come back to see Christine Daaé in her first performance since she'd been kidnapped by the infamous Phantom of the Opera?

Gustave and Raoul visited me during intermission. My son did not stop to take a breath as he told me all of his favourite parts, and what he had found especially irritating.

"That one," he murmured quietly as Carlotta strutted past, glancing over her shoulder curiously at me. "She had slight pitch problems with her lower notes."

"Gustave," Raoul chuckled as if this were all a great joke. "You're four years old, boy. You can be trained up a bit before you begin judging other people's acts."

I glanced uneasily at my son, telling him silently to just let the subject go, even as me mumbled something under his breath about a certain type of cow. He understood immediately and went back to telling me his favourite section of the last pianist's piece. When they left again, I took a seat at one of the chairs in the dressing room. I didn't want to stand and watch all of the acts before me, just incase they made me doubt myself further.

"You're Christine Daaé, aren't you?" a girl dressed in a bright coloured skirt asked as she tied the laces of her pointe shoes.

"Yes," I offered her a warm smile, and she returned it.

"I can remember my father bringing me here to see you a few years back. You were the reason I wanted to work here."

"You flatter me." I laughed.

She grinned. "Just seeing you up there in those brilliant costumes, under all of those lights... I mean, I've never been able to hold a tune, but I'm a good dancer. And now I'm here." she laughed airily. "I guess I should say thank you."

"And congratulations." I nodded, motioning around us to remind her of how far she'd come.

Her act was the second last; right before my own. It was a contemporary dance involving six dancers, and I watched with slight interest, feeling butterflies swarming around inside my stomach. My fingers shook slightly, and I could feel my heartbeat in my neck. Suddenly I felt as though my throat were sticky. And if that were the case, I knew my highest notes would be uncofortable and sound strained. I looked around for a glass of water, but there were none available, and before I could request one the stage manager moved me into position to make my entrance.

"Alright, Miss Daaé," he began. I frowned. Perhaps the citizens of Paris really were that much more interested in the old Christine over the Vicomtess... "As soon as your name is announced, walk to the center of the stage and stand where you rehearsed."

The music stopped playing and I felt the young man's hand on the middle of my back, ready to help me move toward the stage. My name was announced, a loud roar from the crowd erupted, and I glided onto the stage, suddenly very conscious of my hair, my makeup, the way my dress was falling. I took my place at the center of the stage and looked out at my audience, smiling widely, despite the quivering of my bottom lip. _They can't see that,_ I reminded myself.

The orchestra was louder than I remembered. I didn't know if I would be able to sing over all of that, but I took a deep breath and my words rang out clear through the hall. I could hardly see the darkened audience at all, on account of all the lights directed at me, but I spent a fair amount of time looking up to where I knew my son would be sitting with his father. This was for him. My little Angel of Music.

By a minute or so into the song, my nerves had completely vanished. Being up there just felt so wonderful and natural. I couldn't believed I'd stayed away from such a breathtaking feeling for such a long time. My voice was something to be shared, and I felt almost guilty for keeping it from an audience for so long. I felt as though I would have wanted to sing for all of them more than they would have wanted to listen, and not guilty in the slightest about wanting to keep them there.

I held my last note on longer than was necessary, just cherishing the moment as much as I could, my arms spread out welcomingly to the audience, which immediately erupted into loud applause when my voice had silenced. I laughed freely and bowed over and over again, deeper than I ever had, as I saw them standing and clapping over their heads. This was all for me. They were giving me a standing ovation.

I blew a few kisses out to the audience, sunk into a bow once more, then walked gracefully back to where I had been standing only a few minutes before. A small crowd of other performers had gathered to greet me, and I tried not to feel too proud of myself. I'd done it. I'd sung for only the audience in front of me. I'd sung without _his_ guidance, and I'd succeeded. I'd done it on my own.

I looked up expectantly as the hall began to clear, waiting anxiously for my husband and son. The other performers began saying their goodbyes and moving off as well, and still there was no sign of my family. I decided Raoul must have stopped to talk to soeone, so wandered back into the dressing rooms to change out of my dress. I was pinning my hair more comfortably in front of a large mirror when a familiar pair of black eyes suddenly appeared behind me, staring at me intensely.

I turned and smiled warmly. "Where is your father, darling?"

"He said he would meet us at home. A friend of his invited him out."

"You're not serious." my face fell as I turned back to the mirror. Gustave followed me, still staring in a way that I was not used to.

"Mother...I didn't know you could do that."

"Do what, sweetheart?"

"Your voice is beautiful."

I smiled and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you, darling. I think I'm only just realising how much I actually miss this."

We climbed back into the carriage alone. Gustave never stopped talking until after his bath, and even then he followed me into the drawing room. I'd planned to stay awake until Raoul was home, just to make sure he was okay. I knew he would be hesitant about me singing to begin with, but I thought by now he'd be okay with everything. Apparently not. He hadn't even stopped to tell me I'd done well.

I vaguely noticed Gustave check the hall before skipping to the piano and climbing onto the stool, but it didn't register in my mind until he started playing. I paused and dropped the book into my lap, telling myself not to get caught up in the beautiful melody. I couldn't risk Raoul walking in and catching onto Gustave's incredible talent.

"Gustave," I stood from my place and looked over his shoulder, watching as his tiny fingers glided over the keys of the piano in a way that should have been impossible.

"Father's not home, mother." he said, looking up for a moment. "You said I could play when he wasn't here." he already knew where I was about to go with this conversation.

I frowned as I continued to listen to Gustave's song. It sounded so familiar. "What is this?" I asked quietly.

"That man with the shiny shoes was playing it tonight. The one that played right before the dancers with the ribbons."

I bit my lip. He'd memorized the entire piece, and now here he was, playing it flawlessly, as if he'd had years of talent. I didn't tell him to stop. I didn't even tell him that what he was doing was strange. I just kissed the top of his head and went back to watching him. "You play it better than the man with the shiny shoes."

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**I'm going to try my hardest to have the next chapter up within a few days. Fingers crossed!**

**Chlowie, xo**


	16. Chapter 16

**I think this story's going to be a lot longer than I originally thought. I've been sick (yet again. Seriously,) and have written plans up to chapter thirty, and I still have things to come. I'm going to try to get those chapters finished and posted as quickly as I can. I'm excited!**

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I decided not to sing again after that night. Raoul had been with a short temper for a few days after my performance. I wasn't completely sure if I was the entire reason for this, but I guessed that was the case. He hadn't even told me I'd done well, and had returned home hours after midnight, waking me as he noisily made his way into our bedroom, tripping over the chest of draws beside the door and smelling strongly of alcohol.

Gustave's passion for music increased every year. He woke me up on my twenty-fifth birthday with a bright smile, urgently tugging on my hand to make me follow him. He led me downstairs, into the drawing room and sat me in the most comfortable chair before playing a wonderful piece he'd claimed to have written all by himself, especially for me. By the time he'd finished playing, I was in tears, and stood to kiss his dark hair, unable to say anything.

"Mother? Did you not like it?"

I grabbed his hand and nodded with a smile until I could string my words together. "Of course I did, darling. You just surprised me is all. You have amazing talent, Gustave."

"As do you, mother."

I just nodded vaguely, knowing very well his talents much surpassed than my own, despite the fact he hadn't had a single lesson in his seven years.

Clara and her family came to visit for lunch, and a few of the other maids who had been working since the time she had left joined us after a lot of insisting from myself. They'd made me a cake and sandwiches, and we laughed and conversed around the table in the dining room while Gustave and Ivy screamed and laughed in the garden outside our window.

Raoul didn't wish me a happy birthday. I didn't hear a single word from him all day, and was asleep before he returned home. The afternoon of the next day resulted in him presenting me with a new set of gloves, and I smiled warmly and accepted, giving him a happy kiss. Raoul had grown even more distant from me since my performance, and any positive response I could get from him was something I cherished enough in hope to encourage more of.

My husband seemed to spend a lot more time working away from home. Most nights I would try to stay awake to see him return, but fell asleep and woke to find him gone again. He didn't even acknowledge Gustave's eighth birthday. I'd been hurt that he hadn't seen me for my own, but the fact that he missed his own son's was something that made me outraged.

I woke before Gustave got the chance to and dressed before making my way to the kitchen. The night before, I'd asked our cook to prepare a cake for my son, and I had intentions to take two slices to his room and eat it with him in bed for breakfast.

"Gustave," I chuckled, kissing him on the forehead to wake him. He stirred immediately and his eyes snapped open before he sat up and smiled widely. "Happy birthday, darling."

"Thank you, mother." he laughed in a way that was obvious he was having fun breaking the rules by eating cake in his room this early in the morning.

I gave him his gifts - a new train for his set and a small bundle of manuscript papers. I intended to teach him everything I'd been taught about reading and writing music. He looked down at the paper in his hands, clearly confused.

"What's this?"

"It's special paper, Gustave. To write music on."

"I don't understand."

I smiled and moved him so he was seated half on my lap - he was getting a little too big for me to hold completely comfortable now - and held the paper in front of him, reaching for the pen on his bedside table. As I did, I caught sight of the paper scattered on the desk. He was drawing plans for buildings?

"This is called a staff." I said, motioning to the five small lines. "And this is a treble cleff." I drew the marking slowly, so he would be able to absorb it better. "Your right hand works with the treble most of the time with the piano."

"What about my left hand?"

I drew the next shape on the staff underneath the first. "It plays the bass cleff."

"Which is lower."

"Yes."

"How does it show music, though?" his question almost broke my heart. I'd grown up in a home full of music. My father had never taught me how to read it, but I'd known the basics. At least at my son's age I'd seen a sheet of music before and could understand what it was used for. But here, in this household...Raoul was not musical at all. I'd heard him sing a couple of times before the incident at the opera house, and he did have a somewhat nice voice, but he played no instruments. The piano in the drawing room was there simply because it was customary a household had one. But because there was no one in the house that played, there was no music for my son to feast his eyes on. He hadn't seen any before.

I began drawing more and more onto the staves, explaining where he could find Middle C on each of them and giving him short rhymes to remember the letters each line and space resembled, just as I had been given when I was younger. Gustave had asked me about notes a few years ago, and I'd pointed them out to him on the piano.

Within two hours, Gustave was speaking quickly, repeating everything I'd told him and drawing crotchets and quavers and minims as though he had been for years. He proceeded to take one of the blank sheets and began filling in the spaces, beginning with key and time signatures and ending with two small dots to indicate the whole piece repeated. Every note was drawn with perfection, and I swallowed in amazement when he hesitated, then added the small sign to indicate the G on the third line was actually a G flat. _To mother, from Gustave_ was what he wrote across the top of the page before handing it to me.

"What's this, Gustave?" I asked, trying to sound as though I was not shocked at what he'd picked up in such a short amount of time. He'd managed to read and write music one hundred times easier than he'd managed French - it was more natural to him than his own language, and that terrified me a little.

"That's your song, mother." he said, beggining to hum it as he pointed out the notes. I hummed it with him, reading it from the page. It sounded familiar to me, and I realised it was the same song he had written for my birthday. He'd stored it in his head since then, and only now was it written on paper, as precise to the detail it had posessed the first time he'd played it for me.

"Thank you, Gustave." I said quietly, kissing his forehead gently. "But this is your birthday, remember? I'm supposed to treat you to things."

"And is father going to take us on the picnic he promised?" he asked eagerly, leaning forward as he awaited my answer.

My face fell, and my son's shoulders immediately slumped. "I should have expected not."

"Gustave, your father's a very busy man."

"Too busy to see his wife and son for their birthdays!" he said angrily. He kicked his legs in frustration, sending his gifts to fall from his bed, where we were still sitting, and to the floor. "Mother, he just doesn't want to spend time with me!"

"You know that's not true." I said sternly, trying to stop his train of thought. I didn't need there to be anything more between our tiny family. Raoul's attitude toward me was difficult enough as it was most of the time. I didn't want there to be unecessary tention between him and Gustave, as well.

"It is," my son insisted, staring stubbornly at the wall in front of him. "Even when he has the entire day off work and he's just sitting around, he won't play with me. I changed my train tracks so they wouldn't get in his way and he'd be happy, and he didn't even say thank you."

"Your father's been stressed lately, darling, don't hold it against him."

"He can't have been stressed that long..." he muttered bitterly, crossing his arms and ending the conversation.

From then on, Gustave spent almost every moment that Raoul wasn't at home at the piano, music sheets and pens in front of him as he composed. When he ran out of the paper I'd bought him, he drew his own up. They were just as perfect. I'd taken him into town and he'd looked through books in the local music store and had told me he now had a much better understanding and would be able to write even better music. I allowed him to do whatever he wanted, so long as Raoul was never in the know. He accepted this, having grown up with his musical talents kept just between the two of us. There was some kind of unspoken rule between us that Gustave followed constantly; never mention music in front of Raoul. Every day, Gustave would put all of his music into a small suitcase and lug it upstairs to put under his bed with the rest of his toys and school things. He would tidy up the space around the piano and make it look as though it hadn't been touched in years, the lack of dust being the only subtle hint at the truth.

I was reading silently beside the fireplace one day as Gustave played to himself, then scribbled on the paper in front of him before playing again. After a couple of hours, he caught my attention and I set my book down before he began to play for me.

His songs were usually slow and full of emotion, one particular melody accopanied by chords. This one, however, was something different. He played a polyphonic rhythm, making it sound as though five hands were playing instead of just his small set of two. His fingers worked in fast, mechanical movements, his timing perfectly consistent throughout the piece. The music in front of him would have been much too complicated for me to read, so I didn't bother standing to study it as I listened. He'd played most of his piece before there was a noise at the entrance of the room and we both looked up, in its direction. Gustave's hands slipped from the keys in front of him straight away and clasped together in his lap as Raoul wandered into the room, looking torn between being confused and betrayed.

"What's this?"

I stood before Gustave could begin an explanation and slipped into my old actress self easily. I'd had to quite a lot since living as Raoul's wife. "Gustave's been taking lessons, darling. We were going to surprise you for Christmas." Raoul wasn't trained in music. I hoped he didn't pick up on the fact that Gustave was simply too good for a child his age.

"How long's he been taking lessons?"

"Almost a year."

"And how come you didn't let me know you'd be spending my money on this?"

I frowned at his selfish attitude. "Raoul, the lessons have been a gift from one of the pianists I'd had as a child. One that worked at the opera house with the ballerinas...I ran into him a while ago and he asked why I'd stopped with my singing and offered lessons to Gustave, who had been with me at the time."

Gustave nodded at me over his father's shoulders, letting me know I'd done a good job. Raoul accepted the explanation easily enough, and didn't have anything else to say upon the matter.

Even after this incident, Gustave still kept away from the piano when his father was home, and never left his music out. I knew he was just worried about what else would come out of it. His father had the tendancy to overreact about some things, and neither of us wanted to be the reason for the next outburst.

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**Two more chapters until Erik begins to make a reappearance. Things will move rather quickly from there.**

**I would love, love, love some reviews! (I need to talk to someone while I'm sick)**

**Chlowie, xo**


	17. Chapter 17

**Look how quick I'm being with my updates! I know I always reply to all of my reviews, but I want to say another thank you. No one truly knows how much they mean to me. Keep it up! :)**

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It didn't take me too long to become suspicious over Raoul's whereabouts on the many nights he was late home. I hardly saw him anymore. The nights that he returned from his work while I was still awake were rare, and even then he didn't have too much to say to me.**.**

I knew I should not have been, but in a way I was relieved of the absence of my husband in my life. For more than eight years I'd kept up a careful act of being a wonderful wife and faking my desire for him, and now that he was never home to keep me awake and from things I would really prefer to be doing, I was able to relax and feel like myself again.

There was one night which finally brought me to question him. I had been sleeping and woke in the early hours of the morning after a nightmare. I couldn't remember what it was about, but when I rolled over to seek comfort from my sleeping husband's presence and found his spot still empty, I decided I should go and seek him out.

I slid my feet into my slippers, tightened my dressing gown around my waist and walked slowly from our room, down the stairs and into the hall, where I heard a shuffling noise. I was still a little anxious from my dream, so took my time in gliding to the kitchen, where Raoul was seated at the small table in the center, a bottle of wine in front of him as he murmured to himself. His head was in his hands, and he was looking down at the table. I frowned and wondered if I should say anything, but he must have heard me before I could get anything out because he froze and looked up.

"Raoul?"

"Christine,"

"Are you alright, darling?" he began shaking his head, a look of intense sadness sweeping over his features. "Raoul, what is it?"

"Christine..." he sighed and played with the glass between his fingers and I took a seat across from him.

"Are you going through a rough patch at work? Raoul you know things will get better."

"Work," he scoffed. "I haven't given work a thought for a bloody long time..." his words slowly faded and he began mumbling to himself again. I didn't know that I wanted to hear what he was saying.

"Raoul, what are you talking about? Why haven't you come to bed yet?"

"You wouldn't want me in bed with you, would you? I've seen the way you look at me when we -"

"Raoul, please."

His face fell as he looked back at me and he reached out a hand. I took it, just to make him calm down and my eyebrows pulled together when a tear fell from the corner of his left eye. "I'm sorry, Lotte."

"Sorry for what? Raoul?"

He began shaking his head again, as if he couldn't bear to tell me, but I kept a tight grip on his hand and made him look back at me. He was obviously upset, and I didn't want to be the reason for this, but I had to know what was bothering him. His words were worrying me as much as the depressed state he seemed to be in.

"Please tell me, darling." I said quietly, running my fingers through his hair encouragingly. His hand caught my wrist and he kissed my fingers, giving me a long, sad look before he let me go and spoke again.

"It's all gone."

"What's gone?" I asked, suddenly extremely worried. What on earth was he talking about?

He bit his lip and put his face back in his hands to keep from looking at me. "Our money. It's gone."

I frowned at him. Was he too drunk to know what he was talking about? He was the Vicomte de Chagny! Of course our money wasn't all gone. "Darling, are you alright? Do you need to sleep?"

"Can't sleep with this on my mind." he said gruffly into his hands. "I'm sorry, Christine."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Raoul. Come on, I think you're just over tired." and drunk. My lips twitched as I helped him to his feet and the smell of alcohol washed over me. He'd had more than wine tonight. "Go and wash up and I'll see you in our room."

He nodded silently and left the room. I stared after him in bewilderment, left the wine on the counter and filled myself a glass of water before returning to our bedroom. It took a few minutes for my husband to make an entrance, but when he did he looked just as miserable as before.

"Get dressed, Raoul." I reminded him before he could settle into bed. He immediately turned and walked back to the chest of drawers he'd passed. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"Of course," he sighed.

"Well, get a good night's rest before you do. Don't get up too early, okay?"

"I need to work all I can." he said quietly. He turned to me sadly. "For you and Gustave. I've ruined everything."

"Raoul, what are you talking about?" I asked, standing from my place and walking over to embrace him.

"They took our money. I didn't mean to put it all up, but -"

"Raoul!" I released him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. "Please tell me you haven't been gambling,"

"I'm sorry," he leaned forward, holding my waist tightly and kissed me. I couldn't pull back to get away from him in his embrace, but I did not respond to his lips. I wasn't going to put on an act until I got answered from him. "I'm getting it all back. I'm not going back to them. I'm going to work twice as much as I usually do. You won't be disappointed in me anymore."

"Raoul, I wasn 't disappointed in you to begin with." I lied, stepping away from him and pushing him slightly toward our bed. His words were all drawled and lazy and all I wanted was for him to be sober so we could talk things through properly and I would actually know what had happened. "But whatever made you do it, Darling?"

"I was going to surprise you." he said pathetically as he climbed into bed and rolled over, into his pillows. "I was going to impress you."

"Raoul, I'm your wife. I hardly think you need to try to impress me."

"I think," he said softly. I didn't know what to say to that, but watched him for a moment, until I heard his snores, then slipped into bed beside him. Hopefully he would be home early tomorrow night and I would get all the answers I needed. I was terribly worried about what was going to happen, but sure we could work our way out of anything that came in our way. After all, there couldn't be anything else that blocked my road to happiness.

}~*~{

"Well, Raoul, I don't know what to say." I was angry. I had been for the last week, since I found him at the small table in the kitchen, but now I was finally going to let my true colours show. He glared at me from across the table in the drawing room, papers strewn between us on the polished surface. "How could you let this happen?"

He didn't seem as though he had anything to say to me. He just kept giving me that strong, cold look, somehow silently telling me that _I_ was in the wrong.

"I don't know what we're going to do." I finally said, setting down the letters I was holding and giving him an enquiring look. "But I know that you're going to have to keep up with your work, and nothing else." I knew he would have heard the meaning behind the words; no spending his nights drinking and gambling as he had been in secret for I don't know how long.

"Don't you tell me how to live my life, Christine," he finally said, standing from the table and walking away from me. I followed him, crossing my arms as he poured himself a drink and narrowing my eyes.

"Is something the matter, _darling?"_

I scoffed in disgust, unable to put any words into a sentence. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to hit the glass out of his hand and let the alcohol stain the carpet beneath us.

"Raoul, you need to begin taking things into consideration. We can't keep living like this. I know you don't want to think about cutting back on staff, but do we really need them all? I could lift a finger; I'm not completely pathetic -"

"What kind of image would that have on our reputation, Christine?" he sighed. I rolled my eyes.

"What kind of image is our reputation going to hold when we have to give up our home? Raoul, we don't have the kind of money to keep living like this. _Please,_ darling, just...focus." I reached up to cup his face between my hands and gave him a pleading look as he stared down at me, seemingly unaffected. "I know times are tough, but we'll be able to pull through this if we work hard enough."

"That's very easy for you to say, Christine, but perhaps you should take into consideration that _I _am your husband, and therefore _I _am the person burdened with working myself to make the money. It must be so easy for you to sit around and tell me I'm not providing well enough for you, but I won't stand for it."

My hands slipped from his face and my right eyebrow lifted to his words. "Well, if that's the way you feel, I suppose I should begin working as well."

He scoffed and lifted his glass to his mouth again, making me feel stupid and helpless. "You." he said, amused. "And what could you possibly do, Christine?"

"I can sing." I reminded him. I knew how much he was going to hate this, and I was ashamed to admit that I was a little smug at the uncomfortable look that twisted his perfect lips. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten that once, I _did_ make my own way in life. I still have my voice, Raoul. And I'm certain I could make it back to the stage. Andre and Firmin have always been gracious in allowing me to return."

"You're better than that now, Christine. You're a Vicomtess."

"A Vicomtess who will be in serious trouble if she and her husband don't begin to sort things out. I'm sorry, Raoul, but if things are going to continue like this, I'm going to have no choice. We're already in enough trouble as it is. We can't have it getting any worse."

He sighed, defeated. "Not for long. Just until we're on track again."

"Of course,"

"And then you'll forget and return back to being my wife. And only my wife."

"And a mother," I reminded him.

He tilted his head back to finish his drink and set the empty glass on the desk beside us. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Christine."

"Trust me, Raoul."


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry about not updating sooner. I'm going through my last couple of months of school, and silly little me took on three major works, so I'm EXTREMELY busy. I'm challenging myself on my other story, and I'm going to do the same here. I'll post a new chapter every time I get ten reviews on the previous one (that's less than on my other story. Just because this one's going to be a lot longer and I want them up quicker). Anyway, I'll update whenever I find a spare moment, or take a break from my school work to write when I reach ten reviews. Whatever comes first.**

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It hadn't taken much to convince the Opera Populaire's managers to let me back on the stage. Raoul had only mentioned it in passing one night while we'd attended the most recent show and they'd all but painted up posters embellished with my name right then and there.

I was set to perform the finale for their next benifit night; they'd decided to hold one every other month, and the next one was just under half a month away. I would be joining the Populaire's most featured singers of past and present once again, but not for one show only.

Of course, no one outside of myself and my husband knew of our money problems, and I wasn't about to make myself seem desperate. Everyone was under the impression that I only wished to return to the stage to have a little more excitement in my life. Of course, Raoul was not happy at all about this, but which respectable Vicomte would want his wife in the spotlight of an opera house?

"You created quite a stir amongst the public after your last performance, Madame," Firmin said hungrily, rubbing his palms together in his lap. "We're working as we speak to get you up on that stage again."

I nodded my head gracefully, knowing very well his excitement was only for the vast audience they were hoping to draw in by posting my name around the streets of Paris once more. Who wouldn't want to come and lay eyes on the woman who was the source for a hundred rumours almost a decade ago?

I practised four times until the big night, planning to perform a piece written by a new composer. His work would be playing within the next several months, and Monsieur Firmin had thought it a good idea to give our audience a small taste of what they were going to 123recieve and make them hungry for more. I thought it was a wonderful piece, but my lips pressed into a tight line as I realised almost anything I would hear for the rest of my life would be a disappointment after what I'd performed in the past. There may have been many talented composers in the world, but the Populaire had held what I believed was the best of our time, only to lose him willingly.

Gustave was terribly excited about my upcoming appearance. He would escort me to the opera house and watch, perfectly silent, in awe as I let my voice fill the empty hall. All too soon it was the night of the performance, and he was seated next to me in my dressing room, watching as I powdered my face and straightened my curls in the neat loop on the top of my head.

"You're going to sound wonderful, mother." he told me as he ran his fingers over the lace of my skirt.

"I hope so," I grinned at him in the mirror, butterflies too potent in my stomach for me to hold a proper conversation with my son.

Someone cleared their throat behind us and I turned immediately, smiling warmly at my husband who was watching us, checking the time on his watch before replacing it back into his waistcoat.

"We'd best be off, Gustave, if we want to make it to our box before the show begins."

Gustave kissed my cheek gently and made his way out of the room, pausing at the door and turning back to his father.

"I'll be out in a moment," Raoul insisted. Gustave nodded once and closed the door behind him, leaving us alone.

I swallowed, unsure of where this was going to go. Raoul definitely was not looking forward to my performance tonight, which had bothered me. I wished more than anything for him to find a way to forget about what had happened in this very building, so many years ago, but it didn't seem like that was ever going to happen. I told myself not to blame him, but a small voice argued that it was his fault we were in this position again; returning to the stage was not something I would have done if we had not been so desperate for the help of money.

He'd been working hard since I'd confronted him about his problems, for me. He was always home relaxing as soon as he'd finished his work, and hadn't spent any nights outside of our home, so I was beginning to feel a little more confident in our situation. Hopefully this would be my only performance. I was not ready to have Raoul's distance become a regular thing in our relationship. I missed the sweet, caring Raoul I'd fallen in love with.

"Raoul," I began when he hadn't spoken.

He sighed and kneeled down beside me, taking both of my hands in his. "You don't have to do this."

"What are you talking about, Raoul?" I asked with an uncomfortable laugh. "We've already agreed to this...my name's been on posters around Paris for weeks!"

"We can find another way out of our debt." he insisted, looking toward our hands. His fingers squeezed mind desperately as he tried to get his point across to me. "I know things aren't looking bright at the moment, but we're really not that bad off. We can pull through, I know."

"Raoul, please. I would feel a lot more sure of this if I were helping, as well. It can't hurt. The more money we get sooner, the better. I promise I won't continue with this when we are back on our feet. I have no intention of returning to stage. I promised to be your wife, and I do not wish to be anything else."

He was silent for a long moment, and my eyes slipped to the door on the opposite side of the room. "Gustave will be waiting, darling."

He let out a long breath as he stood to his feet and began walking to the door. He turned halfway across the room and looked at me as if he were about to say something, then shook his head and left me on my own.

I turned back to the mirror and studied myself silently. We would be okay. Raoul understood...I just had to make him see there was nothing wrong with what we were doing. My performing was not going to make this marriage worse; just help us become closer again. All I really wanted, right in that moment, was to make Raoul proud of me. I wanted our lives to return to the way they had been when Gustave was younger, when everything had seemed so wonderful and I'd been able to smile at any moment with my husband. Those moments had been few, but I was determined to get them back.

When it was my turn to take my place on the stage, I walked up confidently. The woman who had sung previous to me gave me a warm smile and wished me luck, and I thanked her quietly. Everyone was completely silent as the piano played my introduction. I plastered a happy expression on my face as I began to sing, and let my voice project out to the audience, savouring every moment of the short minutes I had in front of them.

It wasn't until the last verse that I began feeling as though I were truly up there. My voice rose to the impossibly high notes, holding onto them and pushing them out comfortably; more comfortably than I'd ever been able to accomplish. My eyes widened at the sound of my own voice, and, unable to help myself, my hand rose to my throat in disbelief, surprised that I'd been able to accomplish such a wonderful sound. There had only been one other occasion where I'd sung like that...years ago, far below this very building.

The pianist waited for me to continue, but I was unable to find my voice again. My fingers were shaking as they slipped from my throat and curled at my chest. My eyes slipped from the center of the hall, up, to that familiar box to my left. Box five. I lowered them again when I was met with the confused stares of a wealthy-looking couple in their fifties and looked down at the stage in front of me. What was wrong with me?

There was a quiet mumbling sound coming from the audience at this point, obviously wondering if I was going to continue. The pianist cleared his throat and I forced the last line out of my throat, wanting nothing more than to return to my dressing room, look the doors behind me and beg that this could all be taken back. Why hadn't I listened to my husband easlier?

My applause was still deafening, and I bowed graciously before walking quickly from the stage, not pausing to speak to anyone in the wings. Once I was back in my dressing room, I took the seat in front of my mirror and began pulling the pins from my hair, my fingers still shaking violently. I would _not_ think about what just happened. I was being stupid, and such stupidity would not lead me to good.

That note still rang in my ears, and, surrenduring, I let my eyes slip closed as I replayed the moment over again in my head.

When I opened them again, I felt tears burning. I let them slip down my cheeks and lowered my head, trying to control myself. What would Raoul think if he saw me like this?

I knew what had gotten me in such a state. I had sung the way _he'd _intended me to. I had sung in a way that would have made him proud, and he hadn't been here to hear me. I wished more than anything at that moment that he had been. That I'd been able to have him tell me I had done well. I craved the words from his mouth, the gentle glow of pride from his eyes.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped and looked up, into those same dark eyes glowing in front of me. It took me a moment to respond, but I did, smiling warmly at my son, who wrapped his arms around my neck. "You did wonderfully. I knew you would."

I kissed his forehead and ran my fingers through his hair a few times, moving my chair out so he could take a seat on my lap. He was getting so big now that he could hardly fit, but I needed the comfort from him. "Thank you, darling. I'm afraid I faltered a little on the last note, though."

"What happened, mother?" he asked, suddenly curious. His eyes burned into mine, and I had to look away, thoughts of the only other owner of those eyes still fresh in my mind.

I knew he would be able to tell if I were lying, and he was waiting patiently for my answer, so I responded as best I could. "I just missed someone, Gustave. I'm alright."

He tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Grandfather?" he inquired.

I hesitated, but the door swung open, allowing me not to continue. "Raoul,"

His eyes were worried, and studied me for any hint of hesitation as he bent down to kiss my cheek. He handed me a bouquet of pink flowers and I cradled them, looking them over so as not to meet his gaze. He knew. Of course he knew. This was something close to what he'd been dreading the entire time.

"Andre asked if you'd be willing to meet for an interview."

"An interview?" I repeated, shocked. "Whatever for?"

"The newpaper." Raoul answered dully, looking at my hands instead of my face. "You'll accept, of course. We'll wait for you."

"Thank you, Raoul," I said, suddenly flustered. I quickly pulled the rest of the pins from my hair and asked my husband for assistance in removing my gown. Once I was dressed in something less formal, I was greeted at my door by a short man with a pen and notebook.

"This will only take a minute, Miss Daaé." he insisted, walking me back, into the room. I smiled apologetically at my husband, who stood upon hearing my old name and motioned for Gustave to follow him outside.

The interview was simple and straightforward. I only had to correct him on one thing; that I was not Miss Daaé anymore, but the Viscountess de Chagny. He wrote down what I said slowly, as if wondering about how important those words were. When we were finished, Raoul stood at the door and watched him until he disappeared down the hall, then grabbed my coat and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The carriage ride home was quiet. Gustave, being far too inquisitive for his age, understood that something was not right, and didn't mention anything else about my performance. I walked him to his bedroom and helped him change, pulling the blankets over him tightly and sitting on his bed beside him.

"I love you." I told him quietly as he yawned.

His small hand found my own and he squeezed my fingers comfortingly. "You sounded like an angel tonight, mother. I wish father appreciated how beautiful your voice is."

"It's not his area of expertise, darling." I offered a small smile and kissed the top of his head, smoothing his hair gently. "Don't you worry about it. It's something we can share together."

When I returned to my room, Raoul was seated on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. He hadn't changed yet, and I wondered if I should begin a conversation. I closed the door behind me quietly, but loud enough so he would know that I was there, and gathered my favourite night dress in my arms, slowly unbuttoning the back of my dress as I watched my husband.

"Raoul, are you alright?" I asked after a couple of minutes, hoping I would not recieve anything of a hostile nature from the choice of my words.

Lifting his face from his hands, he sighed and nodded. He kicked his shoes off and looked at the photograph of us on our wedding day without saying anything. I chewed on my bottom lip and moved to sit beside him, looping my arm through his and brushing his dark blonde hair with my fingers.

"How about you take a break from work tomorrow, and we take Gustave out for lunch?"

He watched me silently for a moment, looking much older than he actually was, and leaned forward to kiss me slowly. I responded appropriately, my eyes slipping shut and allowing him to take over.

"I love you, Christine." he told me a while later after extinguishing his lamp. It was the first time he'd spoken to me since we'd been in my dressing room. His arm curled around my waist and pulled me against his bare chest posessively. "I thank God every day that you're my wife."

Unable to say anything else, I faked a yawn and rolled over, wrapping my arm around his waist and burrowing my face into his neck. I knew it was better to show him physical affection than to have him question me.

For the first time in so long, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Raoul's body as someone else's. With the image of those intense, dark eyes burning into my mind, I didn't tell myself to stop. It had been too long since I last thought of him, and after singing like that, and knowing _he'd_ made it possible for me to be able to do that, I didn't mind letting thoughts of him lift me up and carry me into my dreams.

}~*~{

Raoul was gone when I woke. I could hear Gustave playing downstairs, so decided to dress and meet him for breakfast.

I wandered into the room with a wide smile, hesitating with surprise to see Raoul sitting at the desk on the side of the room, watching our son with. He held a vacant expression, but his hair was mussed and he looked tired. I wondered if he could possibly still be worried over my performance from the night before.

"Good morning," I said cheerily, gaining their attention. Gustave smiled happily, continuing his playing, and Raoul's eyes looked up at me darkly, his mouth twisting as if I were something disgusting he had found unexpectedly. I sighed and took the seat opposite him, spotting for the first time the small glass filled with amber liquid by his elbow. I resited the urge to raise my voice and ask him exactly what he thought he was doing in front of our son, but before I could say anything at all, he'd pushed the newspaper in front of him toward me.

I unfolded the pages and looked down at the front page, where my own name greeted me. I felt ice flood through me, wondering what could have possibly upset Raoul so as I began to read.

_Miss Christine Daaé made a stunning appearance last night at Paris' Opera Populaire, delighting the audience in the wonders of her voice, so rarely heard since the mysterious occurance of events of the Phantom of the Opera, who previously put Miss Daaé's name in lights after their infamous affair almost a decade ago..._

I set the newspaper down and breathed deeply, shaking my head toward my husband, who was looking at me expectantly. "I cannot believe this." I said angrily, my hands shaking as I attempted to fold the paper again. His fingers stopped me and he pushed it back up, in front of my face.

"Continue to read, my _dearest._" he watched me until my eyes were focused once more on the paper, then continued to speak. "If I had been under the impression that you cared so little for your family, I wouldn't have left you alone in that room last night."

I frowned at his words, but continued reading. He was right; there was not one mention of my husband or son. Nor was I once called a Vicomtess. No wonder Raoul was so angry at me; it looked as though I was trying to gain fame again, deserting my family in the process.

What shocked me most was the longest paragraph, which spoke of our money problems. They seemed to know quite a lot about Raoul's gambling situation...more than I knew myself. I wondered who had given the journalist the information. Raoul had obviously picked up some enemies with his competitive attitude.

The article also spoke of my return to the stage to be a permanent one, and that I was to perform constantly at the populaire - something else that would make Raoul's attitude negative. Once I'd finished reading I looked down at the table and addressed my husband.

"Raoul, I promise you, these are not my words. I would never say - Raoul!" he'd risen to his feet and was walking out of the room, glass in hand. I glanced at Gustave, who was watching us curiously, and followed after my husband, stopping in front of him in the kitchen. The workers sensed the conversation to come was not going to be pleasant, and left the room immediately, some of them watching us until we were out of view. I shut the door behind them when we were the only two left and gave my husband a look of disapproval as he poured himself a glass of wine.

"What was the meaning of that?" I asked angrily. He looked at me for a moment, taking a long sip, then moved foward so he was standing right in front of me, looking much more intimidating than usual.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Christine." his voice was quiet, but not gentle at all. He sounded a little dangerous, and I resisted the urge to back away from him. I would not let him be the better person here.

"Raoul, I honestly do not know what you are talking about. You should know I would _never_ say those things in an interview! You saw how shocked I was that someone actually wanted to interview me to begin with...this wasn't planned. I didn't say those things. I corrected him about our marriage, more than once, and I spoke for quite a while about Gustave. I can't believe you don't trust me enough to -"

"Who is Erik?"

His question left me breathless, and I froze, unable to use my lungs again. Had he really just said what I'd heard? I was vaguely aware that my eyes were wider than saucepans and my mouth was hanging open, but I couldn't do anything to fix it.

"Well?" he inquired, raising his left eyebrow in question. "Who is he?"

"I - I don't know an Erik, Raoul."

"Don't you give me that." he said bitterly, downing the rest of his wine and throwing the glass at the sink. It shattered against the wall, and I jumped in fright, beginning to back away from him. He followed me until I was against the wall, and his hands found my shoulders, squeezing them uncomfortably as he leaned over me. "Who is he?!" he was shouting now, and I hoped someone would walk in and find us, saving me from my husband's abuse.

How had he found out about Erik? Was he still alive...had he tried to contact me? The thought made my heart race, but I told myself I was being foolish. I'd accepted his death years ago, and I wasn't about to let my hope resurface.

"Raoul, you would know if I knew someone named Erik, wouldn't you? When do I have the time to see anyone? I spend every moment here, with you. And when you're working away from home, you know I have no where to go. I don't know an Erik."

He watched me closely, and I knew he didn't believe me. Finally, I asked the question I needed answered. "Where did you hear that name, anyway?"

"You were saying it last night." he told me darkly. "While you were asleep." my hope faded and I looked down, toward the floor so I wouldn't have to look into my husbands eyes. His right hand rose from my shoulder to knot itself into my hair and he pulled, making me gasp in pain as he tilted my face to look at me. "Who. Is. He?"

"No one," I said breathlessly, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping this would end soon. My hands found his wrist and attempted to pull his hand from my hair, but he only gripped me tighter and pushed me harder against the wall. I groaned and scratched at his arm with my nails, ready to scream. The door opened beside us and he immediately released me as Gustave walked into the room, his eyes dark and questioning as he looked between us.

He was holding the newspaper in his hand, but it was turned to a different page. Trying to control my racing heart, I turned to him and put on a brave face. "What is it, darling?"

"Never mind," he murmured, crossing to the small round table in the middle of the room and setting the paper down. He looked curiously at the page in front of him, which had a printed photograph of what looked like a theme park, with a ferris wheel and thousands of people on it. I could tell Gustave had taken a seat in the kitchen to watch us, and without saying anything to Raoul, who was still watching me closely, I sat next to my son and pretended to read the article with him. Of course I wasn't actually concentrating on the words about wonderful Coney Island in front of me. I was just using it as an excuse not to face my husband.

* * *

**Is it wrong that I find so much joy in using Gustave like this? I just love the idea of him keeping an eye on Raoul.**

**Hope to see you soon!**

**Chlowie, xo**


	19. Chapter 19

I avoided Raoul as best I could after the day he'd asked about Erik. He hadn't brought it up again, but every now and then he would watch me as if I was about to spill all of my secrets to him and beg him still to love me.

I was worried that I would say his name again during the time I slept, so would wait until I heard Raoul's snores to dream myself. I didn't need him getting any more angry with me.

I denied Firmin and Andre when they asked if I would be returning to the opera house to sing again. I didn't need to bring up memories more than I already had. As it was, Erik was present in my mind each day. I didn't let myself dwell on thoughts of him, but with Gustave constantly seated at the piano, asking me to sing for him, his eyes burning with amber in anticipation, it was difficult to forget.

Raoul was going on a business trip for half a week, and Gustave was more excited than he should have been.

"Can we play together every day?" he asked excitedly, his eyes greedily slipping to the piano as he spoke. I laughed.

"Of course. But let's just wait until we have the house to ourselves before we begin making all of our plans."

"Madame?" I looked up to find one of the maids waiting by the door. She held out an envelope and I moved forward to take it from her. It was rare that I would get mail addressed only to me.

"Thank you," I said quietly, opening and reading it slowly.

_To the Vicomtess de Chagny,  
After reading of your success in Paris, I would like to invite you to make your American debut on the stage of my world renown concert hall in Phantasma, Coney Island._

I frowned. They'd adressed me as a Viscountess, when the newspapers during the last few months had specifically just called me by my maiden name. I looked at the envelope, which was on the desk beside me, studying where the letter had come from. Had news of my short return to the stage really travelled all the way to America?

I knew Raoul would be awfully mad if I accepted the tempting offer, but the line focused on my pay for the single night was too intruiging. We would also be paid for our transportation to America and have free accomodation in the largest suite of the certain park's motel. Too tempting...

_I eagerly await your acceptance. Hope to hear from you shortly.  
Mister Y._

"Mother?"

I looked up to my son, who was now seated at the piano. "Would you like to sing?"

I nodded absently and left the letter on the desk beside the envelope as Gustave began playing and I moved forward to sit beside him and sing.

Halfway through our fourth song, we heard the sound of a throat being cleared and looked up to see Raoul holding my letter.

"What is this?" he asked. I could immediately hear the small amount of anger in his voice and stood from beside my son warily.

"Just an offer that I recieved this afternoon, darling. It's nothing at all. Of course I was going to speak about it to you -"

"America?" he read incredulously. "So you thought, instead of finding me and discussing something so important immediately, you would wait around, waste your time with _music_, of all things, and wait until I found out about it myself?"

"No, Raoul, of course not. I only read the letter myself twenty minutes ago -"

"Gustave," Raoul said at once, cutting me off. He tilted his head toward the door and Gustave immediately read the meaning behind his words, leaving the room at once. I dropped my gaze to the floor in between us and waited for my husband to speak again. We hadn't really spoken since the day in the kitchen, and I wasn't looking forward to what was sure to come now.

"Did you really think I was going to let you go to America?"

"Well, we'd _all_ be going, Raoul, not just me -"

"And you think that would be okay? For me to drop all of my work and follow you across the sea just so you can sing?"

"I know how you feel about my singing." I said bitterly. He raised his eyebrows at my tone, and I wished I could take back my words. I softened my features and leaned toward him desperately. "Just look at the offer, Raoul. We could use that money. We might need that money soon."

"We do not need the money, Christine." he said angrily, waving the letter in his right hand. "Why the hell would you even consider -"

"Ah! Forget it!" I stormed out of the room, toward the staircase and heart his footsteps following behind me.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Christine! You have not given me an answer!"

"Oh, really?!" I shouted back, not bothering to turn around. "Even if I did, Raoul, would you bother to listen to me?" I was walking toward Gustave's room, hoping to find him inside and sit with him until my husband had cooled down, but my arm was caught in a strong grasp and I was stopped mere feet in front of the door.

"Don't you tell me I don't listen to you!" he shouted, his fingers tightening around my arm. He jerked me toward him, trying to get me to look at him. I stared at the ground, my bottom lip trembling. It had been years since he'd been this violent with me, and the dangerous tone in his voice was scaring me. "I listen to you, Christine." he shook my arm and I gave a small cry of pain. "I listen to you talk to our son in a way I don't understand...I listen to you say other men's names in your sleep."

"Raoul, that was once, and I told you I don't know an Erik -"

"Don't lie to me, Christine!" he shouted, so loudly that I jumped.

"I have to speak to Gustave." I murmured, trying to pull my arm away from him, but he wouldn't let me go.

"You think I'm going to let you walk into that room and talk to our son about how much of a bad father I am?"

"Raoul - stop it!" he pulled me off my feet and began walking us toward our own bedroom. I threw my arms and legs against him angrily, kicking and scratching him wherever I could, trying to get him to let me go. The door closed behind us, and he let me go, allowing me to lose my balance and fall to the ground. I felt the carpet slide underneath my cheek bone and a burning sensation covered the area immediately, bringing tears to my eyes.

"Get off the ground, Christine." Raoul growled, grabbing my wrists and pulling to my feet again.

"You're drunk!" I screamed, ripping my arms out of his grasp and pushing him away by his chest. I didn't recognise the high, harsh sound to my voice through my frustration and fright. "You told me you were going to stop, and you didn't! That's why I need to keep singing, Raoul! Don't you dare tell me that we don't need the money, when all your hesitation is powered by the Opera Ghost!"

His hand shot out before I saw it happen and I gasped, lifting my hand to my sore cheek.

"You will _not_ speak of that monster." he said seriously, walking me back, toward the bed.

"How can you hit your wife and stand to call someone else a monster?!" I cried, trying to push him away again. I couldn't stop him, though, and he kept advancing on me as I told him to stop and attempted to get away from him.

I didn't let my body shut this time, as I normally did. I kept lashing out at him and shouting every time he uncovered my mouth. He held me so tightly I knew he'd leave bruises, and when it was over he fell asleep, leaving me to cry into my pillow. I looked up at the small mirror on the desk beside our bed and lifted my fingers to the graze the carpet had left underneath my cheek. It was swollen and red and ached, even without me touching it. The other side was red as well from where Raoul had hit me, but not nearly as sore. He'd left my lips swollen, and when I sucked them back into my mouth I tasted blood from the right corner.

Without getting dressed, without washing my face, I closed my eyes against my tears and prayed to God I'd be able to fall asleep easily. I didn't want to keep living for today.

}~*~{

He was sitting beside me, dressed neatly, when I woke. I immediately tightened my hold on the blankets and held them to my bare chest, giving him a wary look. He looked...depressed.

"Christine,"

"No." I said in a broken whisper. The side of my face ached when I opened my mouth to speak, and I heard Raoul suck in a shuddery breath.

"I - I didn't mean to-"

"You knew better." I choked. I felt tears run down my cheeks one more, stinging my open flesh and I closed my eyes against them. "What are we doing, Raoul? Why isn't this working?"

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that." I murmured without looking at him. "Why do you have to do things you're going to feel sorry for? Why can't you just be the Raoul I fell in love with?"

There was a moment before he answered, and when he did his voice was quiet and pained. "Because that Raoul wasn't who you wanted."

He stood and turned away from me, grabbing his coat and hat and reaching for the door handle. "I'm not the only person in this marriage who makes things difficult."

"Raoul -"

"I'll see you in four days, Christine."

The door closed before I could say anything and I stayed there for a few more moments, looking back up when a quiet knock sounded.

"Mother?"

"I'll be out in a moment, Gustave."

I kicked my legs out of the side of the bed and gasped in pain. How could I hurt this much and not realise until now?

I retrieved my dress from the foot of the bed where Raoul had left it and sighed as I looked over the buttons. There would have to be serious repairs if I were to wear it again.

I chose a long-sleeved dress and a hat that hung over my face and slipped on my shoes, thinking things over in my muddled thoughts as I dressed. My head was a mess. I couldn't even begin to think straight. Tears burned behind my eyes at the thought of how much of a mess my life had become, but I wouldn't release them here, where Gustave would worry and question me.

What I wanted, more than anything in that moment, was someone I could talk to. Not tell everything to, of course, because that would be betraying my husband, but someone I could spend time with and just do my best to forget everything that was pulling me at the seams. I needed someone who wasn't aware of how unhappy I truly was to distract me and make me smile. And one person immediately came to mind.

Gustave was still waiting for me outside my door after I'd finished dressing. "Good morning, Darling."

"Are you alright, mother?" he asked me seriously. I lowered my eyes and sighed, bending down to his level.

"Your father's left for his trip. How would you like to stay with Ivy for a couple of nights?"

"A holiday?"

"Something like that." I did my best to smile and put my finger through his hair with the hand that wasn't holding my hat. "I'm missing my friend terribly, and I feel as though we haven't seen them for the longest time."

"Should I pack a bag?"

"How about you sit with me while I ready myself, and then I'll help you?" he was already through the door before I could think things through and I immediately regretted my words. What if the room showed signs of a struggle from the night before? What if I'd missed my clothes and they were still strewn on the floor? Or worse, what if blood was visible to my delicate son?

As soon as I peeked back into the room, trying to seem nonchalant, I stopped worrying. Everything seemed to be in order. Perhaps Raoul had tidied a little before I woke up? Still, I cursed myself for being too caught up in my own head and not making sure the room was perfect before inviting Gustave in. He took a seat on the chest at the foot of the bed and watched as I pulled out a large bag and began placing my undergarments inside.

"Why are we staying at Ivy's house?" he asked curiously.

I sighed and wondered how to answer. "I just need some time away, Gustave. And there's no reason for us to wait for your father to return in this big empty house."

There was a moment before he spoke again. "Why couldn't we go away when father is here?"

"Gustave," I turned to him, shocked. "Why would you want to leave your father here by himself?"

He seemed ashamed and looked down as he answered. "He never spends time with us anyway, mother. Not when he's happy. I don't think he enjoys being around me. He doesn't love me."

"Darling, of course he does." I dropped my corset onto the bed beside my bag and wandered over to take a seat next to my son, kissing his forehead.

"He never plays with me. Even when I ask him to. He'd rather critisize me and drink all day."

"Don't speak of your father like that." I said quietly. Gustave pulled from my grasp, his eyes burning with reason, trying to make me listen to him. Those dark orbs were so intense, once again clouding my vision and becoming a perfect illusion of someone else...

"No! I _will_ speak of him like that!" he said, completely sure of himself. I was taken aback by his burst of temper, but quietened down to listen to him. "I'm sick of you acting like nothing is wrong, mother! I've watched you! Something _is_ wrong, and you won't let me know!"

"Gustave, you're nine years old -"

"But I know things, mother! Even you've said I know things other children my age shouldn't...you can tell me what's wrong. There's something bad. I know. I heard you last night. Outside my room. It scared me. _You _were scared. I've never heard you scared like that before. What happened, mother?" his voice had become gentle, but still so emotional, and he stared up at me, trying to pull the answer from my lips.

I shook my head and stood up, turning away from him so I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. At times I was so convinced that there was no child living inside my young son, but to treat him as his knowledge insisted would be wrong. He was still full of youth, and I wouldn't bring him out of it completely if I could help it.

"That's between myself and your father, Gustave." I murmured, turning to my wardrobe to collect a couple of dresses. "And really, you mustn't say he doesn't love you. He's your _father_, darling. There should be no doubt -"

"I know. Parents naturally love their sons. And he has told me, but he never shows it."

"He has a strange way of admitting his affection." I insisted, feeling my pulse quicken as we stepped into dangerous territory with our words. "He disguises it, and it goes unrecognised to you. But I know he loves you, Gustave."

My son didn't say another thing as I finished my packing, only murmuring things about our extremely spontaneous trip as we ventured to his room and packed his own bag.

Marie, the eldest maid who had taken part in Raoul's upbringing, was the last person we saw before leaving. She seemed bewildered that we were leaving on such short notice, but I promised we would be back within a couple of days and told her not to worry. She didn't question me, but I hadn't expected her to. Usually the staff of the house stayed out of my way. I wasn't like them, and I never had been. It had been hard for them to accept my ways after I first began living with them, and they'd quickly given up on me. I didn't mind. I was used to wandering the house by myself for the most part. At least now I had Gustave to spend time with, who, despite his upbringing, seemed not to fit as comfortably as he probably should have as well.

Clara and Henri were only too happy to have us make our unexpected appearance. I felt a little rude, advancing on them as we were in their small house, but I really did need an escape from the mansion I felt so caged in. I needed to get away from that house...there was too much to remind me of what would surely come once my husband returned. Still, I'd brought something along with me to remind me of what I'd be facing. The letter from Coney Island was tucked into the skirts of my dress, and I was determined to speak to Clara about it when we had a chance to be alone.

I'd powdered the graze from the carpet and the bruise from Raoul's hand in hope that no one would notice, but not even my make-up could desguise it from my friends. I looked down guiltily as Henri studied my face in a way that made me feel self-conscious over tea. I'd seen Clara's eyes skim over the marks beforehand, but she hadn't mentioned anything, and had looked away awkwardly in hope that I hadn't noticed.

"Christine," he eventually murmured as my conversation with his wife died down. Clara looked up, aware something was about to happen. "Did something happen with Raoul?"

I looked over my shoulder, to Gustave, who was busy entertaining my friend's two daughters, and then looked confidently into Henri's eyes. I _was_ a retired actress. "No, of course not."

"You have a bruise under your eye. And a mark across your opposite cheek bone." he motioned for me to move forward and his light fingers brushed at my skin, looking over it with eyes that had treated so many patients before.

"I lost my balance last night." I lied easily. "I was carrying too much at the one time and fell onto the carpet." I motioned to the graze. "A book I was carrying fell onto my eye." he still looked at me, and I knew he didn't believe me, but I didn't let my story up. I would make him believe me. Clara didn't say anything, and it wasn't until I was dressed in my nightgown for bed that I suddenly began worrying. Clara wandered into the small guest room I would be sharing with my son, carrying two glasses of water and a box of matches and set them beside the lamp on the bedside table. Her eyes locked onto the bruises left by Raoul's tight grasp that painted my forearms, and before I could explain she had bid us both goodnight and turned, closing the door behing her.

This small exchange did not go unnoticed to Gustave, but I cast him a wary look as I pinned my hair up in tight rolls to create perfect curls that told him not to say anything.

I was relieved that Clara was too proper to mention anything to me. The fact I had not considered was that there was someone closer to her, someone she wouldn't be worried about confiding in. And unfortunately this person was too noble to let silence reign.

* * *

**I'm sorry if Raoul seems a little too much at times for anyone. I've actually based him off someone very close to me in my own life when writing his abusive drunk scenes. Thank goodness I haven't had to put up with **_**everything **_**Christine receives.**

**Now off to do hours of Textiles.**

**Chlowie, xo**


	20. Chapter 20

I dressed in an outfit that hid the length of my arms, and didn't bother to powder my face in the morning. Trying to hide evidence that had already been sought out would just tell Henri that I was, in fact, trying to disguise suspicious marks I had deemed as nothing more than self-inflicted accidents.

Clara and her daughters were sitting at the table, fruit and tea in front of them, when I emerged from the room. Gustave was just taking his place beside Ivy when Clara stood and waited for me to approach. She leaned forward at the chance that I would be the only person able to hear her and murmured in my ear. "Henri has tea waiting for you outside."

I cast her a suspicious look, but she pretended not to see and left me to go outside on my own. Henri was, of course, sitting at the small table in the front garden, a book perched in his lap and a pot of tea in front of him.

"Christine," he stood to allow me to sit and I took the place across from him, my breathing uneven, as I was sure of where this conversation was going to go.

"Good morning, Henri." There were no formalities between us. I loved Clara far too much not to know everything about her family. Henri was almost like a brother to me at this point, and wasted no time dancing around the subject we both knew he was eager to discuss.

"Christine, I worry for you. _Clara_ worries for you."

"I don't know why," I began, lying as easily as I had the afternoon previously. "You both know very well that a Vicomtess has nothing to frown upon. My life is, as it should be, almost perfect."

"Are you speaking of yourself, or a Vicomtess in general?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. I fell silent. I knew I would have to allow him to say his part before I could reassure him everything was wonderful in my life. He sighed, closing his book and leaned toward me with his eyebrows pulled together. "Clara told me about the bruises on your arms."

"Raoul tried to catch me when I fell." I said softly. He held up a hand, extending it for my own. I eyed it carefully, and then unwillingly passed him my fingers, which he held gently as he rolled up my sleeve.

"Christine, I doubt your fall took so long that he was able to hold you in so many places. These look like marks made from restraint."

"I don't know what to say," I said I said with a note of protectiveness slipping into my tone while pulling my arm away from him and rolling my sleeve back down. "I feel as though you're trying to make me speak a truth I don't understand."

"Did Raoul hurt you?" he asked without refrain. My face turned to one of betrayal and disbelief at his question, and he turned down a different path. "Has _anyone_ hurt you in the last week?"

"No," I said quietly. "I told you my own stupidity was the reason behind my marks. If I hadn't have stumbled-"

"I've seen the way Raoul has changed these last few years, Christine. You know as well as I do that he isn't right at the moment. The newspapers say that much. Everyone in Paris is aware of the problems your family is facing at this time, and I must say I'm eager to apologize. All three of you deserve better. But Raoul's a different man at the best of times, Christine, and if you want to help your husband, you have to start admitting the truth to obvious facts."

"And what do you think is the truth in all of this?" I asked angrily.

Henri answered, calm and reasonable, and my shoulders sank with every one of his words. "I think your husband has turned, once again, to alcohol. Hence the cause of his violence; I've seen him under its influence before. An intoxicated Raoul is one I've wished I never had to face," he stared me down, and I looked away, studying a tree to my right, hoping he would stop and let me live these few days without thoughts of what I would be returning home to.

"I think there was an argument, because that is something that I know appeals to him when he is under alcohol's influence, and I think that argument ended in violence. Did you stand up to him, Christine?"

I nodded, unable to say anything else. He was too close to the truth for me to be able to lie; he would see straight through me.

"Did he take advantage of you, Christine?"

I felt my cheeks burn and wished I'd powdered them after all. My Swedish skin showed my horror quicker than I could mask it and gave Henri the answer he'd been after.

"Would you feel more comfortable speaking about this with Clara?"

"I would feel most comfortable not speaking about this at all, actually," I said unreasonably. He never lowered his eyebrows, so I dropped my gaze once more and murmured agreement to his wife joining us.

Clara appeared only a moment after she was summoned and took a place in between us, looking at me apologetically. "I'm sorry about this, Christine, but I truly worry about you. You're my best friend, and I don't want to see you torn like you've been. You haven't been yourself lately."

"It's alright, Clara," I said stiffly.

Our conversation was straight to the point, as it had been before Clara was in the picture. I was outraged that this was how things were being sorted, and chose not to back down completely.

"What can I do?" I argued angrily, glaring at Henri across the table. "He is my husband! Or have you forgotten? I cannot simply betray him! I am his wife, and I have no choice but to stand by him." I re-thought over my words, correcting myself immediately. "And that is my choice. I love him. I vowed my life to him, and with it my body. I belong to him. He did nothing but accept what was his already."

"Christine," Clara sighed. "Henri's worked with women who have had these problems before. Listen to him."

"Just because he is your husband, does not mean he has a right to make you feel threatened and scared, Christine," Henri said adamantly.

I narrowed my eyes at the man. In this relationship I currently found myself a part of, that was exactly what it meant. I knew voicing anything aloud would just come back to me, and this conversation was extremely uncomfortable for me. I'd come to this house to get away from thoughts on this subject, and here they were, in front of me once again.

"He is my husband," I repeated stubbornly. "He's in a bad place at the moment. I just have to give him time and hope he is able to pull himself through this."

"But you don't have to go unheard." Clara's hand rested against my own and I looked up, into her eyes sadly, begging her to end this. I just wanted to leave it; let them think what they did and pretend all was right in the world.

"This does not happen all the time. It was a bad argument is all." I insisted weakly.

"So he never took advantage of you before that night?" Henri saw the hesitation on my face, and I was quick to respond.

"It is not a regular occurrence, the second in a decade. I think it's fair to say there isn't anything wrong with that." They both opened their mouths to speak, and I stopped them. "The first was when Gustave was a baby. I've gone nine years with a loving husband, and I don't think he's automatically becoming a monster. He was just in a bad state of mind. This is all a misunderstanding."

I stood from the table, not worried for once that I was being rude. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable with this. You have no reason to be prying into my personal life as you are. Let us be, please. I truly love the both of you, but this is something that concerns me, not my friends." I turned and walked back inside before they could hold me back, immediately returning to the guest bedroom and sighed as I sat on the foot of the bed.

I'd made a mistake in coming here. I felt tears leave my eyes and fall down my cheeks as I kicked off my shoes and pulled my feet onto the bed, tucking them safely underneath me. I would return home and wait for Raoul to come back. We could sort things out. I would make him promise me that he would _really _try to patch things up, and in return, I would vow never to sing again. If it meant that much to him, I wouldn't even sing to myself while I was home alone.

"Christine?" Clara's voice was hesitant as she opened my door, but as soon as she saw the tears on my face she rushed in, shutting the rest of the house out behind her and taking me into her embrace. "Oh, I'm sorry, Christine. I'm so sorry."

I knew she wasn't just apologizing for her husband's, and her own, rude behavior, but for the life I'd been left with as well, and all I could do was wait for her to release me. I would not admit to myself that, for those few moments, I felt comfort in her arms. My best friend was trying to help me, and I was pushing her away.

"You know you can talk to me, Christine," she said gently, sitting across from me. She pulled her legs up, onto the bed as well, crossing them unladylike as she studied me. "I used to think you told me everything. Now I wonder what's really been going on in your head all this time," she paused for a moment, taking my hand. "It upsets me that you've been living so long like this. I thought it was all new."

I shook my head. Suddenly, having Clara in front of me, the words that I'd held for so long to myself were pushing against my lips, begging to be set free. So, I did just that. I let them go. And Clara truly listened, taking into account the reasons behind my silence just as well as my own sister would have.

"I was so scared," I whispered tearfully, choking ungracefully on my sobs. She had me once again in her arms and I cried against her shoulder pathetically.

"But why?" she asked desperately. "Why has your marriage turned to this? I thought you were both so happy..."

"We were," I said honestly. It was now or never. The truth no one had known was about to be set free into the universe, and I felt a great sense of relief at that thought. "Before the wedding. You're aware of the rumors of what happened that last night in the opera house." her eyes flashed with surprise - perhaps at having myself admit to something unbelievable actually having happened? I'd never spoken about it before, and I could tell up until now she'd thought them a fairytale, and I'd just told her it was true. She didn't know the actual story; there were only three people in the world that ever would. _Two now,_ I thought grimly, closing my eyes for one moment to mourn the loss of the person who had been so important to me once.

"After that night, I began feeling differently for Raoul. I've always loved him, don't think for one moment that I haven't, but that night made me see it was a love I'd misunderstood. I had realized my heart never belonged to him. It was mistake letting him continue to love me, and eventually marrying him, but I had no other choice. I had nowhere else to go." I said desperately, clinging to her hands and hoping she would not pull away from me, call me a deceiving liar.

She never did, so I continued. "So there you are, _I_ am the reason this marriage turned out to be a failure. It's my fault. I deserved everything that came out of it, and that's why you feel I have no self-respect," I sobbed and lowered my head. "I shouldn't have any self-respect. I pulled Raoul into this life with me, and he never needed that. He deserved so much better..."

"Christine," she tugged at my hand, making me look at her. "What happened that night?"

I shook my head, unable to say any more for the moment. I couldn't let the secrets of what had happened under the opera house into the world. Just the thought felt like I was betraying someone so dear to me...

"It's alright, Christine," she kissed my forehead and stood from the bed, understanding she was not going to receive an answer. "I'll bring you some water. You could use a nap."

I nodded thankfully and waited until the door had closed before climbing under the blankets, still completely dressed.

}~*~{

Though I stayed for one more night in Clara and Henri's home, I did not wish to wait around for Henri to try to play a hero again. I had given myself to my husband, and there was no way around that. His words were like horrible temptations in my ears, allowing me to wish for more, but knowing those dreams would never be in my grasp. Just to have Raoul smiling beside me again...to be a _good _wife, one he could cherish and find happiness with...that was more than I knew would ever happen to us. I blamed myself wholly.

I could tell Gustave was curious about what had happened, but he didn't ask any questions. He was smart enough to know that would be the wrong thing to too. Instead, he chattered on about how we were to have fun with music before Raoul returned from his trip. I smiled vaguely, not wishing to upset my son, but had no desire to sing myself. All I wanted was to recline, close my eyes and listen to his own beautiful melodies that were always able to lift and carry me from negative thoughts I wished weren't present.

I leaned back against the armchair in the drawing room and watched his small fingers glide gracefully over the keys as he played song after song, his mind elsewhere and his eyes slipping closed with emotion. The melody changed once again, and this time it was something I was unable to recognize. Perhaps something new he'd written himself?

"What's this, Gustave?"

"I don't know what it's called," he admitted quietly, his fingers stopping above the keys and sliding into his lap as he looked over his shoulder. "It was a song a man played on a violin. I heard it the last time you sang. I had to change it a little bit, though, just so it would fit better for the piano."

"Did you like the violin?" I asked, trying to seem merely curious. The violin had always been an extremely important part of my life, and to have someone else in my life that could play it...I could think of nothing sweeter.

He nodded silently and looked back to the piano. "I asked father that night if I could learn, but he said I already had a piano."

"And you play beautifully," I said honestly, leaning back in my seat and waiting for him to begin his music again. Before he could lift his fingers once more, though, we were disturbed by a timid knock at the entrance to the drawing room.

"Ingrid," I said in surprise, sitting upright in a more proper manner and raising my eyebrows. Ingrid was perhaps the only staff member in the entire household who regarded me as an equal to my husband. I'd thanked her time and time again over the years for her tremendous amount of help with Gustave's birth, and she never tired of hearing about it. She favored Gustave, as well, always tossing him smirks and mussing his hair when she happened to pass him. Right now, however, she looked a little frightened. "What is it?"

"Sorry to interrupt, Madame," she said in a quiet voice, taking a couple of rushed steps into the room. She extended her arm, a newspaper clasped in her hand, toward me. "But I thought perhaps you would like to see the news this morning?"

I stood and took it from her hand, unfolding it and skimming through the pages. It didn't take me long to see the large headline, bearing my husband's name. I looked back to Ingrid, demanding an explanation, and her eyes widened.

"I know it's not right of me to come to you with these things, Madame, but I thought you had a right to know. Just so you're aware before he returns. I'm worried, Madame." her fingers dug into my arm with stress and I tightened my own hand over hers.

"Is he alright?"

"Read it for yourself, Madame. I'm sorry," she slipped back out of the room, and I frowned after her. She'd seemed as though she were frightened of being caught by someone...what could have gotten her so flighty?

My stomach dropped when I finally lowered my eyes to the paper and began to read. Another story from an anonymous source about Raoul's gambling... I sighed in frustration that someone was taking the time to rubbish my family's name until the information really caught my attention. This wasn't the same old news that had been produced time and time again about Raoul's small slip-ups late at night in bars...

"Mother? Are you alright?"

I lowered the newspaper to look at my son, wondering what to say...he was going to find out soon enough. "Your father will be coming home early." I guessed quietly, rolling up the newspaper and tucking it under my arm in case he tried to take a look at what was written.

"Was there something else about him in the newspaper?"

"Don't you worry about it, darling," I sat beside him and kissed his forehead, raising my hands above the keys and sighing as I began to play slowly. Gustave's eyes traced my fingers as they moved and he looked up at me, his dark eyes locked on my turned-down face until I'd finished my song.

"I didn't know you played."

"Oh, well, I don't really know anything but a couple of songs." I insisted as I began playing rapid scales with my right hand.

"Who was your music teacher?"

My middle finger hit both the E and the D flat at the same time and we both cringed. "Um...you know I grew up in the opera house, Gustave. I was taught there."

"Were all of the ballerinas given lessons?"

"It wasn't customary for us to learn music over dancing."

"But why did you have lessons?"

I paused, eying my son uncomfortably. Why did he have to bring things like this up? At least his father wasn't around to hear this particular conversation. "My tutor thought I was something special."

"He was right, mother."

"Oh, Gustave, you flatter me." he grinned widely and I laughed.

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**Thank you to PhantomSith, who helped me out with this chapter, and again to everyone who reviewed.**

**My next spare moment will be spend typing, typing, typing.**

**Chlowie, xo**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry about the wait! I've been feeling really down lately about my writing. I've just got it in my head that it isn't good enough, so I'm posting this before I can think twice. The next couple of chapters are written now, so as soon as they've been looked through they will be posted. Thanks for all of the lovely comments.**

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Raoul looked particularly drawn out when he returned home, two days ahead of schedule. I waited for him at the foyer of the house, my arms folded and cast him an irritable look when he saw me. I wasn't going to back down because of his tired appearance. He knew he was in the wrong.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Nothing I'm sure you have not heard," he sighed, shrugging off his coat.

I sighed and dropped my arms, rushing forward so I was able to lower my voice to keep from the certain prying ears of the household. "Your entire fortune, Raoul. Really,"

He couldn't look at me. I waited. "I didn't mean - It was not supposed to..." he sighed and took my hand, kissing my curled fingers. "Please, Lotte. Don't give up on me yet."

"And suddenly I'm Lotte again?" I said rudely, not bothering to either pull my hand away or respond to his touch. I had the upper hand here, I realised with a start. All I had to do was act like the responsible one out of the two of us, and I was treated as such.

My husband looked up at me and his eyebrows pulled together as he lifted his fingers to brush against the healing graze on my right cheek. "I'm sorry..."

"For what, Raoul?" I asked in a whisper. "For shaming our family's name? For making this even more difficult for the two of us? Or for hurting me?"

I saw tears fill his eyes, and I immediately wished I could take my words back. Swallowing thickly, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, breathing steadily to try to get him to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Raoul," he didn't say anything, so I decided to keep playing this role. "We'll be alright, of course. We just need to make some serious changes." I pulled back and looked at him grimly. "I think the first thing we'll need to do is look at our staff. We really don't need all of the extra help. We can get by without a lot of them. And I'm going to have to start singing again." I paused, waiting for him to insist that wouldn't be necessary, but he never moved to speak, just looked at me in a sad, longing way, so I continued. "I think we need to talk about America."

He nodded. My heart raced. Was this really my husband? Had losing all of our money finally made him see reason?

Dinner was set for the both of us in the dining room and I sat close to him, speaking in quiet tones throughout it. He seemed a lot more alive after getting some food into him and being home for a while, and began taking me more seriously. After a few moments of talk, he really seemed to have opened up to the America idea.

"And I wanted to ask you...seeing as Gustave's tenth birthday's coming up, I thought we perhaps might be able to get to Coney Island a short time before my performance? Just to give him a proper birthday...he's never really had one before. Being tutored from home hasn't given him much of a chance to have a normal childhood. I want to surprise him with something special. And with the amount being offered, we'll definitely be able to afford it. Nothing too excessive, of course. It just means I'll have to do a couple of shows here as well, to make up for it, but I think that's worth it."

"Of course," he said before lifting his corn to his mouth. I didn't know whether I should press for more or not; he was agreeing to everything I said tonight, but I didn't want to take advantage of him when he was in such a state. I decided to turn to lighter conversation instead.

"And I know the perfect gift to give him."

}~*~{

I was able to perform once more at the Populaire before we would board the ship that would take us to America. Raoul and I had both decided to keep the whole trip a secret from Gustave, seeing as he hadn't heard of my being invited to sing there to begin with. I wanted to make his tenth birthday as special as possible for him after such a difficult year, and I wouldn't settle for anything to spoil it. The only downfall of the whole situation was that we would be spending his actual birthday on a boat. I hoped he wouldn't mind too much.

I stole into his room the night before we left and put my hands on my hips when I saw him sitting upright in bed, pouring over a pile of manuscript paper instead of being asleep like he'd promised.

"Why doesn't this surprise me?"

"I heard a song, and I had to get it written down." he somehow made it sound like an apology, but the words had me smiling sadly at a distant memory...

"Gustave, pack your bags."

"Why?" he asked, his eyes getting wide with worry. Did he think I was getting rid of him for not going to bed on time?

I laughed and reached up to pull his suitcase from on top of his closet. "Because," I began, trying to control my smile. "We are going away for a while. It's a surprise, so don't ask me any questions. Just pack what you will need. We will be away for a while."

"Are we going far? How long will we be gone?"

"No, no, no!" I insisted, putting my finger to my lips. Most of the trip we'd planned would be spend on the boat, but I wasn't going to tell him that. He was smart...he'd guess before my game wasn't fun anymore. "We will be gone for more than a month. That's _all_ I'm saying...and there'll be no chance to come back for anything forgotten, so make sure you have everything you'll need."

He bounded out of bed in excitement and skipped to his drawers. "There's no chance of taking the piano, is there?"

"No," I laughed. "But I'm sure you won't miss it too much."

"It's not the piano I'll miss, it's music." he said a little glumly. I grinned at him behind his back and straightened my features before he could look at me.

"You will survive, darling." I kneeled beside him and helped him pack his pants more neatly, creating a lot of extra space. "Do you need help? Or will you be alright?"

"I'll be alright. You look tired. Go to bed."

"We leave at noon tomorrow, so don't spend too much time on your music, alright? I want us to be ready bright and early."

He nodded and I kissed his forehead gently before leaving the room and making my way to my own. Raoul was already tucked up in bed, reading a thick book. He looked over the pages at me with a raised eyebrow and I gave him a single nod. "Everything's sorted. He's so excited, and he has no idea."

"You are excited, too."

"Of course I'm excited." I laughed and began changing into my nightgown. There was a certain air around me that I couldn't explain...for so long I'd felt trapped in this huge house. Everything was a routine pattern that quickly became slow and dull, and to think that we were going out, into a world we'd never been...it was scary, but it brought a smile to my face all the same. And it was because of _me_ that we were going! I felt a strange sense of pride at this thought. But there was something else...the part I couldn't explain. I didn't know why, but it felt as if there was something there for me. I shook my head when nothing came to mind and reached up into my space in the wardrobe, pulling down an old case from my belongings I'd brought with me from the opera house.

"Are you going to give it to him before we leave?" Raoul asked, studying me as I hugged it close to my chest.

I nodded and came to sit on the bed beside him, still holding it tightly. "I'm so glad he takes an interest to these things. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed seeing this."

"Let us just hope it agrees with him." Raoul murmured as he reached over to extinguish his lamp.

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**Two chapters to go until we can all smile again! I'll get them up really quickly.**

**Chlowie, xo**


	22. Chapter 22

**Guess what...I graduate tomorrow! Ahhh! :') Which means I should have A LOT more time to write. I have so many ideas for Erik and Christine, and I want to get the next chapters of this story up so I can start on something new!**

**Thank you for all of my reviews!**

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For once, I woke up before both my son and husband. The excitement of the day ahead had kept me in a shallow state of sleep the entire night, and I'd opened my eyes on numerous occasions, checking the windows for even the slightest amount of sunlight to let me know it was okay to proceed to Gustave's room and present him with his gift. Only when finally I rolled over and found the sky was an acceptable pinky-grey did I set my feet on the ground. I didn't worry about changing into a dress before gently picking up my son's present and making my way to his room.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and tip-toed to the side of his bed, leaning over to smile serenely. He was so beautiful. It was a rare occasion that I saw him asleep, and I took my time in bending to wake him with a kiss. His eyes slipped open immediately, and all evidence of sleep and tiredness disappeared within a second.

"Happy birthday, Gustave." I said softly. He sat up to make room for me and I took a place beside him, pulling his blanket over both of us.

"It's not my birthday for another week...are we having cake for breakfast?"

I laughed and pulled him to me, holding him to my chest as I set the case down in his lap and kissed the top of his head. "Present first, cake later."

He eagerly opened the case, pausing with a quiet gasp. I bit my lip and waited, watching as he stretched out two fingers and ran them over the old violin. "It's beautiful."

"It was your grandfathers." I said softly. I pried it gently from its case and set it in his own small hands, plucking each of the strings individually to check the tuning. "I can't hear if they are right or not, Gustave, you are the one with the perfect pitch."

"G, D, A and E?"

"Yes..."

"They're close enough." I laughed and began tightening the bow, handing it to him next when he had finished altering the tuning pegs the smallest of amounts. "I don't think I will need to tell you how to play. I can only imagine you studying them when you watch performances."

He lifted his arms gracefully, looking like an expert straight away and pushed the bow along each of the strings. The sound was...perfect. I closed my eyes and tightened my arms around his middle, feeling tears well up. It had been so long since I'd sat and listened to the sound of a violin. And this violin, in particular...

I sat with him as he plucked and bowed the strings, setting his fingers in different places on the neck of the instrument to find different notes. We were perfectly silent for a long time, and then the door opened and Raoul stepped in with an eyebrow lifted and a small smirk on his face. "Look at you both," he chuckled lightly.

I grinned up at my husband, grateful for his good mood and he came to sit beside both of us, nodding at Gustave to continue. Gustave played a quick scale effortlessly and Raoul snorted. "He obviously takes after your father here, Christine. Is there anything this child can't do?"

I laughed uncomfortably, thinking all the while it was a rare chance that Gustave had inherited his grandfather's skills when it came to violin.

We re-checked everything we'd packed into our suitcases five times before I could finally accept we were ready to go. Raoul carried our bags to the door as there was no one working for us at the present time, seeing that we would be away for such a while. The gardener who lived on the grounds and the few maids and butlers that lived within the estate's walls would spend one day a week tending to the house, but otherwise were instructed to go about their typical lives. It had taken time for Raoul to get used to this arrangement, but he was doing everything within his power to try to gain and keep money, and nothing terrible had happened.

Gustave was practically bursting out of his skin when our carriage stopped at the docks. He jumped out after me and, with his new violin tucked safely under one arm and his hand squeezing my own tightly, dragged me to follow behind my husband.

"Where are we going?"

"You will see, Gustave." I laughed. It didn't take him long to find out. A man announced our ship to America, beckoning the passengers and Gustave looked up at me in what I could only call shock. "Surprise," I laughed. "I was offered a job in Coney Island, so we thought we'd spend an extra week as a birthday present to you."

"Coney Island?" he repeated, dumbstruck.

Seeing as our transportation was being paid for by the park's owner, Raoul hadn't hesitated in booking a first-class room. It was nicely furnished with two comfortable beds and had a small window and bathroom, but the feeling of unsteady ground beneath my feet was something I knew I would take time getting used to. Gustave immediately took a place at the end of his small bed and brought his violin out again, closing his eyes and stringing together melodies. I shook my head in disbelief at the talent he possessed and wished Raoul would learn to appreciate it.

}~*~{

Gustave didn't mind at all that he was stuck on the boat for his birthday. We spent the entire day together, on deck, mostly, and at dinner a cake was served especially for him. Apparently more news of our family had entered the newspaper, because there were small groups of people approaching me constantly during the first week and a half and telling me what an honour it was to meet me and that they had read we would be boarding a ship later than the one we found ourselves on. I explained our change in plans and they accepted with wide smiles, Raoul eyeing them as if they were utterly mad until they left my side.

"Honestly," he sighed after one woman asked me to sing at breakfast and I had refused graciously. "They attack you like vultures."

"Yes, I'm beginning to wonder what all of the fuss is about." I admitted quietly. I wondered if I would ever get used to being in the spotlight again. I hadn't realised the few performances I'd had of late would make such a mark on my career, but Raoul's next words had me seeing the truth.

"It is obviously not your voice they value you for at most, Christine."

Though the comment stung, I knew not to say anything. Raoul might have been able to address that night himself, but if a peep of it was heard out of me it meant the end of the world. I was smarter than that now.

Raoul began disappearing during our last week on the ship. I resisted asking him where he'd been when he returned each night smelling of alcohol - he'd obviously met some friends at the ship's bar. I didn't want him to regret accepting our holiday, so I kept my mouth closed. Gustave would eye me worriedly each night, but with a small shake of my head we would both go silent and allow Raoul to continue to play by his own rules.

My days were spent with my son as we sat on the benches on the deck. He would play his violin, and I would hum along, never singing too loudly, uncomfortable about the rest of the ship's occupants listening to me. It seemed as if they were waiting to catch me using my voice, and that put a lot of pressure on me. It did, however, amuse me to see them wandering a little too close to where Gustave and I sat, and to overhear them gushing about my son's talent. I felt myself well up with pride and requested songs he'd either written or memorised, rolling my eyes good-naturedly when he immediately sprang into action and began playing them effortlessly.

The ship finally docked, at long last, and despite my nerves and the small amount of fear I felt at stepping into a whole new country, I practically skipped off the ship with Gustave. Raoul followed after us in a more formal manner, and though we were kept in a line for quite a while, inspected and given short interviews, time flew. All too soon I was really stepping into America, and with the new country, the flash of cameras at my unexpected appearance.

"Miss Daaé!" the shouts of my name sprang from almost everywhere, and I was bewildered, trying to answer people's questions and not look too horrified while my picture was constantly taken and my hands sought out those of my family.

"It's Madame de Changy, thank you very much!" Raoul spat back just as aggressively, ordering people who got too close to stand aside and pointing fingers at anyone taking photos of myself or Gustave. "No pictures!"

"You're a week earlier than we were expecting, Miss Daaé,"

"Why ain't'cha singing at the Met?"

"And who's _this_ lovely little fellow? All that talk in the newspapers, and they forget to mention anything about your charming son!"

"All that talk in the newspapers, and they forget to mention how gorgeous she really is!"

I blushed as a group of men laughed and sought comfort from Raoul, who was visibly outraged at their rude behaviour.

"Why Coney Island?"

"The _Vicomtesse,"_ Raoul began bitterly, answering any of my questions for me. "Has been engaged by the well-kno -"

"Well-known!" a small group of people scoffed. "No one's ever seen the guy-!"

"-How'd he lure the great Christine Daaé over here, anyway-?"

"-It's the money, right? -"

They began speaking over each other, discussing my husband's gambling issues, some of which were a little too unbelievable, and their voices were blurred until I felt almost dizzy. I closed my eyes against the flash of the couple of cameras that were present, grateful that my appearance hadn't been expected. I don't know how I would have been feeling if there had been any more flashes to half-blind my already imperfect sight.

"Sing something for us!" to this comment, there was a great deal of cheers of agreement and I hesitated, wondering what to say.

"My wife will _not _stoop so low as to sing on a crowded street, now if you don't mind -"

"Father," Gustave cut in, that curious edge so often present in his voice.

Raoul responded angrily. "Not now, Gustave!"

The crowd rounded on my son and I felt the urge to reach for him protectively. I was immediately relieved that he'd learned English while being tutored back in France, or else he probably would have felt more overwhelmed than myself. "Hey, kid! How does it feel to have a famous mother?"

"Is this your first time to America?"

"Whadd'ya plan to do at Coney?"

"I..." Gustave seemed taken aback at all of the attention, but with eyes on the water ahead of him, answered all the same. "I want to learn how to swim."

I was shocked at his answer. He'd asked Raoul for swimming lessons a couple of years ago, but Raoul had insisted they were unnecessary. He hadn't brought it up again since.

"I said leave the child alone," Raoul sighed, pulling Gustave back, behind his leg as our audience began to laugh and gush over our son. He began looking around, his eyebrows pulling into a frown. "For God's sake, Christine! What about receiving our ride to the park? I knew we should have sent notice to this Mister Y that we would be arriving early."

I bit my tongue. I'd been sure _Raoul _had been the person to do just that. I wasn't at all surprised that it had apparently slipped his mind, and kept my patience as he talked it over with himself. Unfortunately, the seemingly unthreatening grey sky above us decided this inappropriate moment to be the one it would begin raining, and Raoul pulled out his umbrella angrily as the crowd began to disperse, muttering to us to find a carriage to get us to Coney Island, and quickly. The man carrying our bags began following after us and I thanked him once he had placed them in the cab Raoul had called to a stop.

The carriage lurched forward, making its way through the streets of New York quicker than I'd been expecting. The entire time Gustave was captivated by the people and the buildings around him, pointing things out to us as Raoul leaned his head back against the seat and pretended to sleep.

I leaned forward to look out of the window with my son, just as transfixed by the new and strange sights I was seeing. America was so different to France. I had not expected it to be quite so, but it wasn't in a way that made me homesick. Only excited to see what else this so-far surprising country had in store for my family.


	23. Chapter 23

**I expect chapters will be going up a bit faster than they have been from here (even though my HSC's coming up). I really want the next chapter up after half a week or so.**

**But HERE IT IS! I'm so excited!**

**And thank you so much again to PhantomSith for being my Beta.**

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**Erik's POV**

I sighed and resisted slamming my fist against the desk as the Giry girl's persistent chatter in my ear continued. Her mother must have seen my irritation, as she hushed her daughter and walked forward to stand before me. I ignored her, but could not refrain from twitching at the sound of that name that left the woman's lips..._her _name.

Did she honestly think it was a good idea to bring that girl up every time she felt as though she were not getting her way?

"Christine..." the Giry girl mused, her eyes suddenly glazing over with thoughts of her old friend.

"Meg, leave." Madame Giry instructed immediately. The young blonde huffed and marched out of my office, and I raised my one visible eyebrow to the older woman, waiting expectantly for her outburst.

"Erik," she sighed and leaned over my desk, as if trying to look intimidating. "I know you do not like to consider these things, but really; we got you out of France – brought you to America! How much have we helped you throughout these years? And you still continue to wallow for that girl who –"

"Stop," I hissed, turning to pretend to sort through files. Her hands were on her hips as she followed me.

"No, Erik, I will not _stop,"_ I was surprised to hear this. Usually she did as I instructed. I did not wish to be scolded by her. In many ways, she had managed to treat me as if I were her child. Foolish woman. "You should sooner be thinking about where your loyalties lie. Christine is not here to fill your stage, but Meg _is._ Use her! She can be helpful to you–"

"Six shows daily, perhaps?" I asked, raising my voice. "She is already under lights five times a day, Madame. I doubt she needs any more time seeking out attention from paying customers."

"You know very well that is not what we wish for." she said carefully, a tone that made me wary. This woman could be as cunning as myself at times, and I was not foolish enough not to listen to her. She lowered her arms gently to refrain from looking a threat, and with this, her tone softened. "I do not need to tell you how talented you are, Erik. You know. And I know that talent came with you to America."

I looked out of the window beside my desk, pointing out the obvious. My park was magnificent, and I was not going to be modest and say anything otherwise. It would take a fool to state such a thing!

"With your music," she continued and I pretended not to hear her. But apparently, this did not matter as she went on to say, "I cannot say I blame you for mourning after coming here, Erik, but I am worried. It has been ten years."

"And do I not I seem fine?" I finally tore my eyes away from the window to question her. "I have been running a theme park, Madame. I do not have time to mourn, and I have no reason to."

"I've heard you playing new compositions. For the last week you've been working on something different."

"You should know better than to pry into my private work."

"It's rather hard to ignore." she insisted, to which I rolled my eyes. Of course, it would help if she were not skulking around my concert hall with intentions to use evidence she found against me. "That music, Erik...it is similar to what you used to produce; nothing like this vaudeville trash you've been throwing your performers since the opening of the opera house."

No. She would not take this for her daughter. It was meant for someone else. "I assure you, Madame, my customers do not come to listen to arias." Not to be sung by small blonde attention seekers in the very least. That was merely something I was working on as entertainment for myself."

"But it would not hurt to work through it with Meg–"

"I doubt your daughter's voice would suffice." I said shortly.

Madame Giry paused, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. I watched her steadily, my face completely blank, until she decided to open her mouth again. "You imagine her singing it when you compose, don't you?" I did not answer. "She left you, Erik. I insist you let her go."

"This is about my music, Madame!" I roared. She immediately took a step back. "_I_ insist that you drop the subject!"

"Let her go," she repeated desperately. "Forget about her! I'm sure she never spares a thought for you anymore, Erik. She's married, you know? She's a Vicomtesse now. She has no time for memories of the Opera Ghost."

Oh, how I knew. I still received the newspaper from Paris, through trustworthy sources, just so I could keep an eye out for her. Interesting news about my beloved had come to me only recently, and that was exactly why I had drawn her to me. If only this woman knew of my plans. She would never be saying such things to me now...not with my sweet Christine just a little over a week away from my embrace.

She saw my glazed demeanor, assuming she had broken through to me; she should have known I was not one to back down so easily. "We stayed with you all of this time, Erik. We've given you everything we have; she betrayed you! She shunned and despised you! She chose Raoul – chose his beauty and wealth over your genius and art–"

"Enough!" I sprang to my feet, leaning over her with the most dangerous glare I could manage. I could see the fear in her eyes from my sudden outburst, but the stubborn old woman I had known for so long refused to shrink away.

"You will be repaid, as I promised you would," I muttered, more calmly, through gritted teeth. "Now, if you have anything else left to say..." she threw me one last, aggravated look, then turned on the black heel of her boot and marched out of my door with her chin held high. I sighed and made my way to the opposite side of my office, pulling a small key out of my pocket to open the tall closet before me. My fingers pushed passed the few coats that filled it, coats that I had never worn – they were merely there for show, until I found the small gap in the wood backing the closet. I pushed it to the left to reveal a narrow passage and stepped through to enter with ease.

The passage was different from those I had used ten years ago. These were kept clean, specifically for my use, and not one other soul had knowledge of them. They were well hidden between the walls of my buildings so that no one would even suspect them to be there. This one in particular ran down three flights of stairs from where my office was perched, overlooking my park, to below the earth where my customers walked. It only took a few minutes to get to the concert hall, and then it led back up, into a spacious room directly underneath the magnificent stage I'd built with one person in my mind.

There was only one other way to get into this room. The suite of my hotel took up one floor by itself, and it had yet to be used. Any customers insisting they could pay whatever I required were denied its use; it was waiting for her. It had been built for her, and I would not let anyone else set foot in that room before she did.

Other than the suite's entrance, the floor had but two doors; one on either side of the long hallway. The first led from the entry foyer of the hotel to the stairs leading to and from the room. The other was concealed in a wall, and only I knew it was there. It was my way to make sure I had easy access to watch over the room with no questions asked. I had been through that door just today, double-checking the suite for when she arrived. I knew I would check multiple times again, just so the perfectionist in me was satisfied, but I was not about to risk not having everything set exactly the way I'd planned for her. One thing out of place could alter what was to come out of this.

The room I now stood in was pitch black, and I lit the lamps to fill it with a warm glow, lighting up the dark piano, the empty fireplace, the comfortably worn armchairs, and the large portrait that looked over the entire room. Slowly, I made my way over to stand in front of the picture and gazed up, lifting my fingers to place them on the round frame.

"Oh, Christine..."

What would it be like to look upon her again, after ten years? To really _see_ her, not just look at her portrait...would she look the same? I could not imagine her different, but surely she must have changed after a decade. My hand fell from the elegant carvings and I backed away, my eyes still on the painted hazel orbs that hung above me, until I felt my piano bench behind the backs of my legs. I took a seat, and with a sigh, turned to place my fingers on the keys.

}~*~{

**Christine's POV**

The suite was...beautiful. Upon entering the hotel, I'd been under the impression that we would have to reside in a different room until the suite was empty, but apparently that was the case already; it had been waiting for us. Raoul spoke sternly to the man (freak, Raoul spat bitterly once we were alone in our room) who carried our bags up the many stairs, giving him requests and making sure he knew exactly how important Raoul seemed to think we were. When my husband was satisfied, he'd poured himself a drink and looked out over the park.

"It is incredible, isn't it?" he murmured. I watched him vaguely from my spot on the long white lounge in the center of the room. Raoul spoke as though it disgusted him, but it truly was incredible. Gustave was still bouncing around the room, ten minutes after our arrival, and Raoul turned to put a heavy hand on his son's shoulder.

"Relax, Gustave."

"I'm excited," Gustave insisted, standing on his toes in front of the huge window to gaze out, across the theme park. "Did you see those people when we walked in? One of them had purple hair!"

"Freaks," Raoul growled again. I swallowed immediately, not knowing what to say. I knew Raoul had never approved of those different to him, and now that we were surrounded by them...I could tell this would not go as smoothly as I'd previously wished. "They should be ashamed...presenting themselves in such a way. It is as if they own the place."

"We knew it would be different here, dear," I said gently. "Let us try to adjust to _our_ surroundings, shall we?"

Raoul snorted, downing the rest of his glass and setting it on the table beside him. "For God's sake, Gustave, stop that bouncing!"

"Why don't the two of you go out?" I sighed, putting my fingers to my temples. "I have a terrible headache, and I'm sure Gustave would like to see the park before thoughts about it keep him up all night." Raoul looked hesitant, so I continued. "This extra week is his birthday present, after all."

My husband sighed, defeated, and picked up his coat from the chair on which he'd left it. "Get ready, Gustave. But not for very long! We are to be back by sunset."

"Yes, father." Gustave almost flew to retrieve his shoes, pulling them on without untying the laces. He waited by the door as Raoul stooped to give me a quick, parting kiss, then they were both out of the door before I could breathe a sigh of relief.

The quiet immediately eased the pain in my head, and I was able to stand and look around the rooms we were to be staying in without feeling dizzy. The living area was spacious, white furniture facing toward a spectacular fireplace, and flowed to the kitchen, which was homely and neatly set out. I poured myself a glass of water to ease the receding ache in my head before continuing to investigate my home for the next few weeks. The bathroom was unnecessarily big, but I eyed the bathtub greedily. I could favor myself a few hours to relax later...

The master bedroom was really what took my breath away. A small crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the heels of my boots sunk into thick cream carpet, and the bed was the biggest I'd ever seen; it put our own to shame. There was a tall chest of drawers behind the bedroom door, and on it a vase filled with the most beautiful red roses I'd ever seen. I was immediately drawn to them, lifting my hand to caress their petals, but stopped short with a small gasp as I caught my first glimpse of the thick black ribbon tied around their stems. The image was too familiar to be comfortable. Even still, I could not resist running the tips of my fingers along the petals before me.

I was pleasantly surprised when I found them to be a rubber-like texture over the velvet feeling I'd expected. As I looked closer, tugging at them carefully, I realized with a start they weren't real at all! How had someone mastered such perfect artificial flowers? I was puzzled, but turned and left the bedroom to return to the living area.

My headache was almost completely gone at this point. Perhaps all I'd needed was a small drink and some peace and quiet. I looked around the wide room, wondering what to do to occupy myself now. When I came up short, I decided to have a quick look at the hotel we would be calling home for the next fortnight. I wished to go out myself to have a look at the park, but I would not have been brave enough to wander around by myself in such a strange crowd.

I picked up the second key to the suite and pulled the door closed, locking it behind me, then glanced up either end of the hall, pausing when I realized there was another crack in the wall I hadn't been expecting, revealing an almost completely concealed door. There were no door handles, and it was wallpapered to blend in with the rest of the hall's walls. I frowned and made my way closer, pushing it open just the tiniest of amounts to push my head inside and look around. Sconces that seemed as though they had been burning for quite a few hours lined the right-hand wall, down a steep flight of stairs that curled out of my sight.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd stepped inside and turned to push the invisible door shut behind me. I saw, with a surge of relief, that there was a door handle on this side, making it possible for me to return to my room.

My body acted as if it had a mind of its own, carrying me down the stairs. On numerous occasions I told myself to stop, and my feet paused beneath me. But there was a strange feeling that overcame me, pulling me further and further down. The nostalgia that followed me the entire way was overwhelming, and my heart beat frantically against my chest.

_No,_ I told myself angrily. _Do not think about him! You will only get yourself upset!_

I'd made up my mind to go back, and promptly turned on my heels, but the sweet sound of a piano filled the hall around me and I felt my knees go weak. I closed my eyes and let the music take control of me in such a way that hadn't happened in years. I forgot where I was. I forgot why I was there. I forgot Raoul. I forgot Gustave. I forgot myself. My feet followed the undeniable call of the piano, and as I got closer and closer to the source, my ears picked up on a voice singing a beautiful melody to its accompaniment.

The breath left my lungs all at once, and thank goodness I had found flat ground at this point, because I had to grip the wall beside me for support. Something inside my chest ached, and I followed the sound blindly, becoming more and more frantic as I tried to seek it out. My hand glided along the long wall, curling around the edge before it led into another room. I could see stronger light shining out from this room, but I dared not to look inside. I was scared that if I looked in and saw that it was not, in fact, who I was so sure it was, my heart would completely shatter from disappointment and I would be left broken.

The song continued the entire time I stood there, the voice becoming more and more emotional as I listened. Tears burned in my eyes and my heart raced in my chest, and my feet began to ache against the restraint I put over them, and still, my ears were completely focused on this glorious piece before me.

_And music, your music,  
It teases at my ear  
I turn, and it fades away,  
And you're not here_

That was all it took to weaken my senses enough and allow my feet to continue on their path. I turned the corner to find such an unexpected scene that I had to try to convince myself it was real.

_I_ was there, painted into a huge portrait, on the largest wall of the cozy room. I looked at the painting with disbelief. It was _me_, younger than I was now, but me all the same. I'd never seen such a perfect depiction of anyone before. Gas lamps were placed on different desks and tables, filling the room with golden light. In front of the painting was a beautiful black piano, and sitting before it, his elegant hands dancing on the keys in front of him and his eyes completely focused on the portrait, was _him._

I clutched to the wall for support, my eyes never leaving him as he continued to play. From where I was, I could only see the right side of his back and the sliver of white I knew was the mask, which hid him from the rest of the world.

I was in denial as he finished his song, telling myself this could not possibly be him. I'd told myself for a decade he was dead. It was easier to accept his unexpected departure when I convinced myself there would be no way to see him again, to forget him. He was not here in front of me. I was dreaming. I would wake up on the lounge in that beautiful suite and have to push all of these feelings away to convince my husband I was fine.

I told myself to turn around, to wake up, to scream and end this, but I couldn't. All I could do was stand there and watch this beautiful mirage unfold before my eyes.

My angel's song was coming to a climax, and though the music became too beautiful to behold, I wished it wasn't so. I did not know what I was going to do when it ended and I realized this wasn't real. But could I really dream of such perfection when it came to music?

'_Til I hear you sing,  
Once more_

The final, powerful chord of the piece and his flawless last note slowly faded away, until it was only the sound of our ragged breathing in the enclosed room. I watched, and for a moment, all there was in the world were his shoulders rising and falling after such a performance. Then, he seemed to notice a second presence in the room, and in less than a second he had protectively shot from the bench and turned to face his intruder.

His eyes turned from dangerous to a look of utter disbelief, and his swollen lips fell open, as if he, too, were unable to believe this was happening. I gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes, soaking in as much detail of the half of the face before me. He was just as I remembered him...he'd hardly seemed to have aged at all. Surely _that_ was a sign I was dreaming. He looked straight back at me, studying me in the same way, those dark gold eyes tracing every one of my aspects, stopping to look straight into my own. Still clutching the wall beside me for support, I felt my knees completely slacken as my world shifted. My eyes began slipping closed of their own accord, and the last thing I saw was my angel rushing forward to catch me in arms I'd craved for a decade.


	24. Chapter 24

**I have a couple of notes to write today. First, I know there are probably a couple of concerns about Meg's behaviour in this story. Obviously this section is based on both the London and Australian version of Love Never Dies, but the story will not be anywhere close to the same. Meg's feeling jealous and unwanted at having Christine arrive to take the spotlight, so yes, she's going to act like it to begin with, but I promise I won't have her attempting murder or anything so drastic. She's too beautiful a character in _Phantom_ for that.**

**Next, some exciting news, I've been cast as Meg in _Phantom of the Opera!_ It's my first professional production, and I absolutely cannot believe it. I had a callback for Christine's role, and they said I had the perfect voice and acting for Christine, but not enough experience. I thought I had an ensemble role up until a few days ago when they offered me Meg, and I'm still over the moon about it.**

**Thank you again to PhantomSith!**

* * *

**Erik's POV**

I threw my hands against the keys of my piano angrily, trying to manage _something_ worth hearing out of the instrument in front of me. It had been so difficult for ten long years, to try to compose, knowing there was no point without a source to draw inspiration from. I heard her in my mind; singing to me with that perfect, beautiful voice that I could never seem to forget, and though I heard melodies shaped around her voice in my mind, I could not draw them out of any of the instruments I had tried. Without her...it faded away before I could grasp a firm hold on it.

I turned my eyes back up to her portrait, and the chords under my fingertips became softer, gentler...I heard a vague melody in my head at the sight of her, and began humming quietly, my fingers following as I gazed after the still features of her head, wishing desperately something could come to mind.

This was something different from what I had tried to produce since arriving at Coney Island – this was not something for her, but something to her. The newspaper on the desk behind me, stating she was expected to arrive in America in approximately a week's time, acted enough as a muse for me to be able to bring _something_ out of this cursed instrument. However, her early arrival was something I was unable to comprehend; I figured something would happen that would stop her in her trek to me, good things avoided me, and why should this be any different?

I was overcome by the music, lost to the feelings I had finally been able to bring forward after all of these years. Christine was surely the reason for this; the thought of her was the only thing that kept my fingers running over the ivory; kept my voice rising in crescendos and stating things I so badly wished to have her know.

My hands became heavier, more urgent on the keys of the piano as I neared the climax of the impromptu piece. As I sang into the last phrase, I let go every bit of emotion I had held within for so long, feeling almost relieved when I was shouting it out, convincing myself she would be able to, impossibly hear me.

When it came to a close, I fell into a hunch, over the keys and tried to control my breathing, my heart aching with the thought of that beautiful girl I'd let slip out of my grasp. I rarely thought of her this much during the day, as I became distracted from my duties around the park. But after the rather rude encounter I'd had with Madame Giry earlier that day, I wasn't going to try to bottle it up again. I needed this kind of release to be sure I would not be completely distracted by thoughts of her all day.

As the moments dragged on, and still my heart raced and images of her danced through my mind, I suddenly became aware of the feeling of another presence in the room. I frowned inwardly at myself. Losing myself in my music had made me become careless...who knew what kind of a person had found his way into my secret abode?

Before they had a chance to follow what had happened, I had risen from the seat and turned to face them, with all intentions of marching over to wrap my hand around their neck and demand an answer as to why they were here. However, the sight in front of me made me unable to move, and instead I gaped at the angel who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Could this possibly be her? This was not the shy, petite ballet girl I'd come to know and love a decade ago...this beautiful woman was new to me, yet so familiar I struggled to keep my knees from buckling. I swept my eyes all over her, from the dark curls that rested against her forehead in a way I knew too well, to the expensive looking boots on her feet – one of the newer aspects. Unable to keep my own eyes away from hers, I looked up, into her gaze, which was one of disbelief as much as mine was.

We stared at each other for a long moment as I resisted the urge to shake my head. She could not truly be here...I'd lost myself in my music. This was a vision; something to torment me before I found out I would not be seeing her again as the letter from the Vicomte had promised me. A woman as beautiful as this only existed in my dreams, and I was not stupid enough to believe she could possibly be real.

After another second, I saw her sway, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, and I rushed to her gracefully, scooping her into my arms before she had a chance to hit the floor beneath her.

A faint smell of roses, masked by a rich perfume overcame me, and I gasped in disbelief. She was here; in my arms - her warm figure a welcomed weight against my chest. I studied her face closely, silently begging her to wake up and look at me again, make me lost in her eyes once more, but such a thing did not happen. I looked around us, making sure there was no one else around to spoil such a tender moment, then, sat her in the armchair in the quiet room and kneeled on the ground beside her to take a better look at her. Had I honestly thought she was the most beautiful creature God had graced the earth with a decade ago? Now she was even more so, and I was hypnotized to the point of forgetting to breathe.

I must have stayed like that, my knees against the hard stone of the floor, for almost an hour before I decided I should take her back to her suite. How had she found her way into my tunnels to begin with? Had intuition to scope out secret passageways from our days in the opera house really stayed with her all of this time?

I pulled her gently back into my arms once more, wrapping her own around my neck. As I did so, I could not help but eye the ring on her left hand with disgust. _He_ would be here, too, and I suspected her would not be happy with the thought of me returning his wife to him.

I moved through the underground tunnel and up the stairs toward the hotel slowly, savoring every second with the angel in my arms. How could I have gone a decade without her? I had not even heard her voice yet, and I had no intention of letting her go ever again. As that thought entered my mind, a nervous feeling twisted in my stomach. What if she was unable to accept me? What if, after all of this time, she had completely forgotten about me; grown to think only of that stupid boy who had claimed her love so long ago...

I turned right onto another, smaller tunnel, my eyes focused on a small patch of light in the wall a few steps ahead of us. It would be almost impossible to find for anyone else; the tunnel was in complete darkness, so it was difficult to navigate one's way, but the fact that I knew every inch of my park, paired with my exceptional eyesight, made it easy for me to find my way and stop in the appropriate place.

The light was produced by a large, rectangular peep-hole, through which I could see the living room of the suite. On the other side of the wall, a spectacular mirror hung. Of course I couldn't have Christine staying in my park without being able to keep a close eye on her, and the thought of spying on her through a mirror once again was just too tempting.

I gave a satisfied nod, accepting the fact that the Vicomte was apparently nowhere to be seen, and, keeping a tight hold on Christine, turned once again to continue our way to her room.

The hall was completely silent when I slid open my secret door, closing it immediately behind me. It bounced back a little, revealing a small sliver of darkness, and I groaned angrily. No wonder Christine had found her way into my tunnel! My door had obviously not closed properly earlier that evening after I'd been into the suite to make sure everything was still looking perfect, ready for her as it had been for years. I pushed it a little more forcefully than I normally would have, satisfied when I heard the small click of it shutting in place.

The door to her room was unlocked, so I opened the door as quietly as I could, cautious incase that damned Vicomte was to make an appearance, and readied myself for the slightest of sounds or movements. When I was met with none, I crossed the room more quickly and gently placed my angel on the wide, white sofa.

"Oh, Christine," I whispered, hardly able to keep my hands from her face. I gave into a single touch, just sweeping my thumb across her brow once before standing and tearing my eyes away from her, marching back to the door. I felt foolish to be so bewildered over her appearance, and intended to have a stern talking-to with my employees downstairs, wishing more than anything to still be by her side.

**Christine's POV**

His face was so vivid...half, that expressionless mask I'd grown so accustomed to so many years ago, and the other half utter shock at my being there. I felt myself waking up, and tried desperately to go back to that moment, hoping somewhere in my subconscious that I wasn't saying my angel's name for Raoul to hear. At that moment, I simply didn't care that I dreamed of him. I hadn't seen him for a decade, and this was the first time the image I'd been given was so perfect...

I stirred, unable to fall back into my dreams, and it was not until I realized there was someone very close, breathing steadily, that I decided I should open my eyes, looking straight into another pair. A pair of black-gold orbs, wiser than those of my son's.

I gasped and shrunk away from him, back against the lounge I'd been placed on. Had he carried me back up to the suite from the underground room? The memory of that song... watching him secretly... having him turn to face me and seeing the disbelief in his eyes. It overwhelmed me once more, and all thoughts fled my mind. What on earth was I supposed to say to him?

He raised his hands to insist he meant no harm, but even still, leaned toward me just the slightest of amounts. I shook my head slowly, wishing for this not to be happening. I had always dreamed, before I'd forbade myself to think of him, that our reunion would be full of relief and proclaims of our feelings toward one another, but this...only felt as though too much time had passed since out last meeting. Thoughts of Raoul flooded my mind, and I knew this was not right. I was married now. I couldn't have Erik here to push himself into my life once again.

"I should have known," I murmured quietly, eyeing him warily. "It is so obvious to me now that this is one of your plans..."

"Christine –"

"What did you do?" I asked, a little louder, making him pause. The action alone made my heart race. It seemed I'd gained some superiority in the last ten years. A decade ago I would have never dared to speak over him in such a way. I saw the fire burning behind his eyes as his words were cut short, but he let me continue. "Did you forge a note in your boss' hand to ask if I would sing at the theme park? Or did you just have to convince him - this...Mister Y, that it would be the best thing for me to come here?" he gave no answer, just continued to look at me, those almost black eyes hauntingly sad, and yet, so uplifted. I swallowed thickly and turned my face away from him.

"How dare you try to claim me now...after all of this time, Erik. How dare you?" I was angry, and I did not try to hide the sour tone to my voice. I stood from the lounge and began walking toward the kitchen, desperate to get out of his sight, but alas, he followed slowly, ever so gracefully, just as I remembered. Such a thing seemed like something my imagination had created on its own account, but here it was...his perfect footwork something I knew I would never be able to accomplish, even considering all of my years training as a ballerina.

"But do I not have a right to claim you, Christine?" his voice was smooth and hypnotic, and I felt my knees weaken. I pressed a hand against the counter in front of me to stay standing, trying to block his words from entering my mind. "A part of you, after all, does belong to me...since the night before your wedding. Don't you deny the truth about that night."

I spun so fast I surprised myself, and my hand collided with his unmasked cheek, he looked down at me furiously, catching my hand in his tight grasp. His anger began to fade, replaced by something more delicate as he studied me. "You remember," he murmured gently, leaning closer toward me. "You remember that long ago night."

"That night," my knees began to sway again, and I pulled away from his grasp, standing aimlessly in front of the stove. I felt his presence behind me, but neither of us had anything to say for the longest of moments. "Where is my husband?" I asked gently, screwing my eyes closed once the question had left my lips. I had merely meant to remind him that I was, in fact, married, however, I knew the temper Erik possessed, and I wouldn't be surprised if even the mention of Raoul would have him throwing things around the kitchen. Surely, Raoul and Gustave were not still walking around the park...

"He was gone when we arrived." he said. His voice was void of all emotion, as if he were trying to prove to me that he could carry civilized conversation about the man he had despised most in the world. "The staff informed me that he's visiting the hotel bar."

I sighed, blushing slightly. Raoul was already out, making an impression. It would be a miracle if we could stay out of the newspaper's headlines until we left. I looked around the otherwise empty room, my heart racing. If Raoul were in the hotel bar, he would have had to leave Gustave elsewhere...and the only other place...

My eyes locked on the door of the smaller of the two bedrooms, and I could just see the flicker of candles from underneath, keeping the room in light from the darkness taking over the park outside. There was no noise coming from the room, and I prayed my son was asleep. He'd been tired until we arrived at the park, and then his excitement had gotten the better of him. If I knew anything about him, he would have fallen asleep as soon as he had taken his shoes off upon returning.

"Christine," the velvet voice brought me back to the present, and my head perked up without turning to look at him. I heard him sigh, and he moved forward to set the kettle on the stove. "Sit down. I'll make tea."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I feel as though we must talk."

I cast him a long, unreadable look over my shoulder and then obeyed, sitting at one of the tall stools behind the counter as he moved around the kitchen. He knew where everything was, I realized. Perhaps he'd stayed here before?"

Neither of us spoke until he set the cup of tea in front of me, and I watched his hands as he added three teaspoons of sugar into my own cup, resisting the urge to smile; he had remembered how I liked my tea.

"Why are you here? In Coney Island?" I asked quietly.

He took a small sip of tea, then watched me carefully. "I understand you had not taken the time to look over your music for your performance."

My eyes slid to the piano to the side of the living room, and for the first time I noticed a score upon it. I looked back to him in surprise. "You did not -"

"I did," he corrected, frowning at me slightly. "Is that it, Christine? You do not wish to perform my music?" I did not answer, watching my tea and wishing for him to stop. "I can understand your rejection upon myself, Christine, but I had always considered my music to be something of the opposite; something people do not try their hardest to turn from."

His words stung, and I lowered my eyes once more. "I am so sorry for the inconvenience, Christine – terribly sorry that you were not informed that I would be composing the aria you are to sing. If you cannot handle thinking of me and performing my work, leave. I am not going to hold you here and force it upon you. You made your choice a long time ago, and I do not expect you to reconsider now."

His words reminded me of what had turned out to be one of the biggest impacts of my life; a night, around eleven years ago, in the depths of the opera house. I thought to snap back at the manipulative man in front of me, but decided against it; what if he hadn't convinced his boss, this Mister Y, to invite me to sing here? Perhaps the man I had yet to meet had considered me all on his own. There would be no good in my pinning blame on Erik, when it might not have even been his fault.

So instead of saying things he could turn back on me to prove me wrong, I said something I knew would do the opposite, instantly regretting my words once they'd left my mouth.

"I waited for you." I said softly. From the corner of my eye, I saw him look at me sharply, obviously with confusion.

"Excuse me?"

I lifted my head to look straight into his eyes, trying to work thought my nerves and display confidence, as I managed to do on stage. "I waited for you," I repeated, my voice louder this time. He turned his head to the side, as if halfway through shaking it to disagree, and I continued. "That morning, Erik. After the night you thought to bring up yourself. I waited." I saw the hesitation enter his eyes, and I knew I was entering dangerous territory. "I woke in the morning, with full intentions to live out the rest of my life with you, and you never came back to me."

"No," he shook his head, turning away from me. "Stop, Christine."

"I don't know how long I stayed in that house for, Erik, just waiting for you. I had no desire to return to Raoul, but you made _that_ choice for me. I even stopped at the Giry's house on my way back to Raoul's estate to beg for help with your whereabouts, but they were not there. I was hoping to catch them at the wedding, before I could say my vows, but they never came." I sighed at the feeling of my throat becoming thick. I had not dwelled on these thoughts for such a long time, and I hadn't realized they would affect me so. I was on the verge of tears now, and my voice shuddered, giving me away.

"I had nowhere to go. I had no home, and no other choice. So I married Raoul and prayed for a miracle that would bring you back to me and get me out of the mess I'd pulled myself into–"

"Christine–"

"_I loved you!"_

"_Stop_!" he roared. His eyes were wide and watery, and I resisted the urge to lean forward and wipe away his tears, letting my own spill over. The two of us fell into silence once again, watching each other closely, not daring to say anything else. It was only when the sound of a door opening startled me enough to break my gaze to turn around to face my son, my eyes pleading with him just to return to bed.

I stood from the stool, watching Erik closely as he stared at the child making his way to me in disbelief. Surely he could not know...

"Mother," Gustave said gently, giving Erik a curious look. "I heard someone shouting."

"Were you dreaming, Gustave?" I stroked his hair lovingly and kissed him on the forehead, looking warily up to our company once more. "Gustave, this is–"

"Mister Y," Erik extended a long hand to my son, who gaped and shook it immediately as my lips parted in shock and I questioned him silently. He only returned a superior look to me, and grinned to my son in a way I was unfamiliar with. Ten years had certainly managed to change him...

"This place is yours?" Gustave repeated, dumbstruck.

Erik smirked, another thing that shocked me, and turned to look out of the large window overlooking the park. Though it was closed, the lights still highlighted almost every aspect, making it look even more beautiful than it did in the day. Gustave automatically began walking to the double doors that I knew led out onto a beautiful balcony, and it looked as though Erik was sharing the same thoughts with him. I followed, my heart still threatening to leave my chest, my eyes locked onto the large hand pressed in a friendly manner to the center of my son's shoulder blades.

"Perhaps you wish for a tour?" Erik was saying as we stepped out, into the night. "Just tell me where you would like to go and what you would like to see and I will show you around myself."

Gustave hungrily gripped the carved railings of the balcony and studied the deserted park longingly. Just the thought of them being alone together terrified me. Erik was not used to children, as far as I knew. Though Gustave was certainly advanced for his years, he did have the tendency to disappear from time to time. Or worse than Erik losing him...what if Gustave did something to make him wonder...

I cleared my throat and received the attention of both of them, Erik looking as though he doubted I had anything to say, and Gustave pleading for my agreement.

"With all due respect, Mr. Y, we are here for a reason, and I doubt Raoul would appreciate his son venturing off with a stranger." I tried not to smile in triumph when I saw Erik's eyes darken at my husband's name.

"If you will remember, Madame," he repeated in the same overly friendly tone; for Gustave's benefit, of course. I realized uncomfortably that this was the first time he had referred to me as anything that hinted toward my marriage. "The Vicomte and I are not strangers to one another. By all means, invite him along." he sneered the last part and I sucked on my tongue to withhold from saying something I shouldn't.

Gustave looked in between us with an unsure look, and then spoke quietly. "Do you know each other?"

I kept my eyes trained on Erik, not knowing what to say.

"I knew your mother a long time ago, young Vicomte." he said quietly. I did not have to listen closely to hear the pain in his voice, and I looked away from them both, staring at the distant carousel. "It surprises me to see her so changed."

"And yourself, Mr. Y," I murmured. The clock tower in the center of the park chimed eleven times, and I turned back, toward my son. "I think it is a little bit too late for us to be out here. Come along, Gustave."

The three of us entered the suite once again, and as I sat at the counter, taking my chilling cup of tea, I saw Gustave become distracted by the sight of the score and begin walking toward the piano. He was about to raise his fingers over the keys when I spoke sharply, in horror of what could come out of this. "Back to bed now, Gustave!"

His eyes widened at my tone, and he flinched away from the instrument, giving Erik one last small smile and walking dejectedly to his bedroom. I kept my eyes off my company as I once again lifted my cup to my lips.

"You are a mother."

_And you are a father,_ "Yes,"

"I can only say being so has made you even the more beautiful. I see so much of you in him, Christine."

My eyes rose, wary, and I studied him, waiting for him to say more, but he didn't. He was completely oblivious. "So what will it take for me to convince you to sing at my concert hall?"

"Erik, please –"

"It would be a shame for such a seemingly perfect child to disappear in a place like this. But, these things are bound to happen once in a while..."

My eyes widened, and I rose half way from my seat. "You would not—"

"Would not what?" he asked innocently.

"How could you, Erik?" I felt tears burn my eyes, and my voice weakened as he watched me. "After all that we've been...who _are_ you?!"

"I am your Angel of Music!" he shouted back, just as angry, and he caught my shoulders, shaking me as if to further get his point across. "I have been suffering for ten long years, Christine! And now you dare deny me this chance to hear you sing again - sing for me, or I will take away everything you love!"

"You can't," I sobbed, throwing my hands weakly against his chest and hoping Gustave would not come out to investigate again.

"Oh, but I can," he released me to raise one hand to the mask on the right side of his face. "You seem to forget what I am capable of."

Thoughts of Buquet and Piangi and the terrifying air that hung over the opera house filled my mind and I turned and lowered my shoulders in defeat. "I cannot believe this is the way we are reunited."

"You believed we would be, though?"

"I tried my hardest to tell myself you were dead and believe the rumors, but somehow...I was waiting."

"And your _husband_?"

"He has worked on keeping me from anything that would refresh my memory of you."

"He has failed." he walked silently to stand in front of me and I felt his cold fingers under my chin to turn my face up to him. "It _is _good to see you again, Christine."

I was silent, my body wanting nothing more than for me to throw myself into his arms and hold onto him tightly, but his threat was still fresh in my mind and it terrified me. "If only you had changed as much as I had previously believed."

His fingers fell away from my chin and he reached to pick up the score that had tempted my son. "As you are here early, I do not see the harm in you coming to my opera house to have a look around tomorrow."

"Will you be there?" I asked grimly.

"I have work to attend to elsewhere."

I opened the score and read over the music silently, pleased when he began stepping away from me. "Sleep well, Christine."

I looked up just in time to see him walk onto the balcony, and I frowned, marching forward to ask him what he was doing, but there was no sign of him.

_How does he manage that...?_

I jumped at the sound of a door slamming and turned to see Raoul marching angrily into the room, throwing his coat over the back of the armchair. "There was no sign of this _Mister Y,_" he sneered angrily. I bit my lip to keep from asking him what had kept him for so long. "The nerve of some people..."

"Raoul," I stopped myself, unable to tell him. What would be his reaction? Not something either myself or my son could manage, I was sure. Especially when he had been drinking.

"Christine?"

My voice was almost a whisper when I answered. "Things have changed, Raoul,"


	25. Chapter 25

**First off, I aploligise for not posting in such a while. Things have been a bit confising lately. But I have one more exam to go now, and the next several chapters planned/written loosely, so as long as everything's running smoothly things will be up quicker than they have been!**

**Thanks again to all of my reviewers!**

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My curiosity got the better of me, and Erik's words ran through my head during the night. I desperately wanted to see his concert hall, images in my mind showing a spacious room just as exquisite as the opera house where I'd first performed.

Gustave was already dressed and at the small table between the kitchen and the dining room when I woke the next morning. I gave him a small, apologetic smile in regards to my tone the night previously and kissed the top of his head, smoothing his dark hair back.

The first words out of his mouth had me halting in my steps to the kitchen. "How do you know Mister Y, mother?"

"Gustave," I said in what was almost a whisper. "You mustn't speak of Mister Y around your father, do you understand?"

"No," his face was generally confused.

I sighed. "Listen to me, darling; your father and Mister Y...do not get along. And you know how your father gets at times...it would just be easier to have him believing what he wishes for as long as we can manage."

"You want us to keep secrets from father?"

"It's not really a secret, Gustave, it is...giving him piece of mind. Let him just enjoy his holiday, yes? I'm sure he'll find out when the time comes."

"But surely they aren't still angry at each other! You said you hadn't seen Mister Y for years."

"I doubt either of them will ever be able to accept the other." I knelt down by his side and took one of his hands in my own, rubbing my thumb against it in a comforting way. "Please, just abide by me with this, Gustave. It will make things a whole lot easier on all three of us."

"Yes, mother." his eyes were wide with curiosity, but he would not ask what had happened, all of those years ago. He was smart enough to know when to stop. "But you didn't answer my question."

I made my way back to the kitchen, filling the kettle with water and placing it over the stove. "And what question was that, Gustave?"

"How do you know Mister Y?"

I gave him a long, silent look as I set my tea cup on the counter, eventually sighing and lowering my eyes. "He was my teacher. He taught me how to sing."

"He's the one who thought you were something special."

I laughed, amused by his perfect memory. "Yes, that is him."

Gustave was more than happy to accompany me to the concert hall. Raoul could have been more gracious, but it was clear he was only in a sour mood from his drinking the night before. Still, he cleaned himself up to look like the dashingly handsome Vicomte I'd told myself I had fallen in love with, and we began making our way across the park to where the staff of the hotel said we would find the hall.

Every so often, Gustave would become overly excited with something strange or wonderful that had found a home in the park, and each time Raoul would sigh and rub his eyes as my son grabbed my hand and pulled me toward it.

"Must we keep stopping?" he asked bitterly as Gustave laughed at a performing magician.

"Yes, Gustave, perhaps we should wait until later to have a better look around. When we have more time," I added before he could protest. I felt terrible; this was supposed to be the week we spent celebrating his past birthday, and instead we were doing what _I_ wanted.

"But you promise to join me on the ferris wheel later?"

"Of course." I grinned and tapped his nose before taking his hand again.

My mouth fell open as we neared the concert hall. It wasn't overly large, as it was private to Phantasma, but its exterior seemed even more exquisite than the Opera Populaire. Gustave studied every carving, statue and rose bush as we made our way to the entrance, his hands reaching out to touch anything within his reach. Raoul seemed to be the only person unmoved by such a glorious building.

The interior was even more spectacular. The roof was painted in the most charming deep violet colour, looking precisely like the sky at dusk. Small points which looked as though they were glowing burst from random positions. For a moment, I had to remind myself we were actually indoors. The stage was wide and beautifully designed, and thick, blood red curtains were held back and draped over the edges. There were more seats for an audience than I had been expecting, and somehow the building as a whole seemed almost twice as large from the inside. What caught my attention most of all, however, was the large, extravagantly designed crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling.

"It's beautiful," Gustave mused, his head lifted as he turned around to admire the misleading ceiling.

"Quite surprising, really, that this _Mister Y_ can spend such an unnecessary amount of time on perfecting such a grand concert hall, yet he cannot even meet the husband of his client for a quick drink." Raoul muttered, looking around himself with an unimpressed expression.

I was distracted from replying, however, watching rehearsals for a quick vaudeville piece performed by a group of men and women wearing very fashionable, and mildly inappropriate, bathing suits.

I made my way to the stage, with intentions to speak to the pianist once they had finished their rehearsal, my sheet music tucked safely under my arm.

I did not have to wait long; almost as soon as I arrived at the edge of the stage the group disassembled and began practicing their own sections separately. The pianist seemed only too happy to speak with me, telling me how excited he was to be able to hear my performance himself. I smiled welcomingly and began to inquire about exactly how my rehearsals would be taking place. He seemed to have spoken to Erik about this previously. We were halfway through a sentence when a loud voice interrupted.

"Heaven help me, could it be?!"

I lifted my head to see a small blonde girl - the object of the performance previously being practiced - watching me closely. Her hair was a straw-blonde and pinned up modernly on her head, her eyes heavy with makeup only acceptable during bold performances.

"Oh my goodness!" she said gleefully, bringing her clasped hands to her mouth, as if in disbelief. I was beginning to get uncomfortable. Usually people didn't act in such a familiar way toward me.

"Sorry, do I -?"

"Yes, I think you do," she laughed, walking toward me. The pianist seemed to accept my attention was elsewhere and gave me one more polite look before leaving to attend to business elsewhere.

"Have we...?"

Her arms opened invitingly. "Go on and take a guess!"

The excited tone in her voice had me hesitating, and I looked her up and down properly for the first time. The thick blonde curls, wide blue eyes which had been disguised under paint and mischievous grin struck me all at once, and I gasped, moving forward myself, hardly able to believe who I was seeing.

"It can't be! Oh my goodness, I cannot believe it!" we grasped hands at the same time, wide smiles present on both of our faces. The more I gazed at the woman in front of me, the more foolish I felt. Meg Giry had changed somewhat dramatically during the last decade, but who was I not to remember my previous best friend? Her figure was still that strong, yet slender form of a dancing girl, her hair was shorter, but billowed out behind her as it always had, and though she was wearing extremely tall performing boots, she was quite a few inches shorter than myself. She looked older, of course. No one would dare call her a girl any more. It was shocking, not seeing the innocent glint in her eyes that had been so present the last time I'd met with her. The thing that surprised me most about her appearance was what she was wearing. The Meg I knew would have blushed furiously and waited for her mother to pass such a thing off as unacceptable before ever donning such an outfit.

"Oh, Christine, you look so beautiful!"

"And you, as well, Meg! After all of this time -"

"I can't believe you're actually here -"

"What of your career?"

"Everything's absolutely wonderful! What brings you here? You've come to see the sights?"

"And sing," I said blissfully. At the sight of her wide grin falling and her hands becoming slack in my own, I held back some of my youthful energy. "And of course as a treat for my son, Gustave."

Before we could say anything else, the group of dancing girls I'd been watching before crowded around me, and I smiled politely and did my best to answer all of their questions, catching sight of Meg standing dejectedly against the sight of the piano every so often. It was only after they were called from the stage, and one of them managed to drag her friend from inspecting my wedding ring, that we were left to ourselves again.

As the stage cleared, I caught sight of yet another familiar face; Madame Giry, the woman who had been most like a mother to me during my life, was talking to my husband on the opposite side of the stage. They were both speaking intently, and I felt dread fill me immediately. Why hadn't I suspected Meg and Madame Giry to be here before? _Of course_ they had been with Erik this entire time! Madame Giry had always seemed to know things no one else had. I felt utterly ridiculous that I hadn't put the pieces together, and wished with all of my heart that she would not mention who exactly had invited us here.

I wasn't able to make my way over to yet another happy reunion before Meg caught my attention again. "Sorry, did you say you were to be singing? _Here?"_

"In a week's time. During the final show of the season." I clarified, watching her closely. She seemed torn between being outraged and deflated.

"There must have been some mistake..." she looked toward the empty seats of the audience, her eyes troubled. "That's the leading lady's slot, and _I've been _booked!"

"No, surely not!" I resisted urge to take her hands once more and moved forward, wondering how to ease this on her.

She dropped onto the piano stool behind her. "This was meant to be my lucky break." she sighed sadly.

"I'm only singing one thing; an aria."

She looked up to me, still seeming to have a hopeless air about her and tried to fake a small smile. "Christine, I am honoured to be sharing the stage with you." she then leaned back in her seat, taking on a bitter edge I was surprised to find in the ballerina who had once been so constantly effervescent. "It shouldn't surprise me, being overlooked as I am, I suppose..."

My eyes slid back to her mother and my husband, and I caught sight of an outraged expression on my husband's face. _Oh no,_ I thought, rushing to get to them in order to try to ease any of the damage that been done.

"Darling, is everything alright?"

He snatched the forgotten sheet music out of my hand and grabbed my arm viciously in a way that terrified me. Usually behaviour like this only came from him when he was under the influence of alcohol, and it lead to things I had a hard time forgetting about. "Tell me honestly, Christine," he said in a dangerous voice. "Who composed this music?"

"Raoul, please," I squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp, well aware of the Giry's prying eyes focused on us. "You're hurting me."

He pushed me away from him and stalked away. "I will deal with you later." he hissed.

The woman who had once been so much like a mother to me finally took my hands and placed a long forgotten, but familiar kiss, to my forehead. "Christine, my dear, look at you! You've changed so much."

I gave her the best smile I managed. "Madame, I must say I am surprised to see you here."

"And I you, Christine," there was something hard in her eyes, as if...she did not truly wish to see me? "Surely you will not be staying?"

"Why would I leave?" I frowned despite myself. "Madame, do you have any idea why this -"

"The master's mind works in mysterious ways," she said, cutting me off. "I doubt any of us should wonder at what he manages purely for his entertainment."

Entertainment. I swallowed back a remark, catching myself. For the first time, I realised just how much being married to Raoul for ten years had changed me. Never in my life would I have spoken rudely to Madame Giry in the past, and now it seemed it would be only too easy. Memories of my attitude toward Erik the night previously also flooded into my mind, and I felt blush warm my cheeks. Where had the timid little Christine Daaé he had most likely been expecting disappeared to?

An unfamiliar voice called over us. "Break's over, Meg!" the dancing girls returned to the stage, and Raoul ceased the conversation he had picked up with my once-best friend and began making his way toward me to escort me out of the hall.

"Enjoy your stay," Madame Giry said politely.

"Hope it extends!" I said cheerfully, purely on a reflex. My face fell as I thought over my own words, and I was vaguely aware of my husband and mother-figure giving me a look as though worried about my insanity.

Raoul was silent until we were away from the stage, halfway back through the hall, and that's where he caught my arm to stop me, turning me to himself and speaking in a dangerous voice. "I swear to you, Christine, if you do not -"

I knew that voice. And Raoul was not even intoxicated. I had never heard it come out of him while he'd been sober before. Thankfully, something else worthy enough of an interruption caught my attention. "Gustave! Gustave..."

Raoul groaned and turned, searching for him himself. "Must we _always_ be chasing after the boy?! When I find him, I will -"

"No!" I took a couple of steps away from him and tried to give him a reassuring look. _"I'll _look for him. You go on back to the hotel, Raoul, and I will join you as soon as I have him."

I had a strange feeling I knew where Gustave had disappeared to, or rather, who he had disappeared with, and the fear for the safety of my child was enough to push away the worry of what I knew my husband would have liked to have said. I turned from him and began walking, intent on finding help, before he could say anything to keep me with him.

The thought of Raoul finding Gustave and punishing him as he seemed fit had worried me to begin with, but the thought of Gustave being under the careful gaze of Erik had my heart hammering in my chest, and not only because of Erik's threat from the night before.


	26. Chapter 26

**I have had this chapter ready to be uploaded for ages, and I'm finally doing it. So sorry about the wait!**

**I haven't had as much feedback as I used to on this, and I don't know whether that's because of how this is going or not. I always want to get my stories finished, but it kind of feels like there's not point at the moment.**

**Thanks to those who have reviewed and favourited somewhat recently, though.**

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**Erik's POV**

The boy looked like his mother...her pale skin, and dark hair and eyes, though, frowning, I did have to admit his hair and eyes hadn't been inherited directly from her. Nevertheless, I could not see his father in him, and for some strange reason I was humoured by that fact.

I would never truly harm this child; my taunting only served as a means to receive what I was after. Anything or anyone so cherished by Christine had me taking things into consideration more than I would have ever expected with my rash behaviour. Well, anyone but that ridiculous husband of hers...

No, the child was merely a way for me to be certain she would stay...and perhaps a way to learn of the life she had led away from my sight - a way to be given facts I was sure I could use to my advantage.

"Look around, while I finish my work," I said softly.

"May I?"

I looked up to see him at the piano. "Does the young Vicomte play?"

In answer, he began playing a melody. A haunting melody, accompanied by a wide range of bass notes that filled the otherwise silent room and sent familiar waves of emotion through me. Waves of emotion that I only knew from one other pianist's compositions; my own.

"What is this?" I asked once he'd paused.

"Just a song in my head."

I raised my eyebrow at him and motioned for him to continue.

"I think it's beautiful. I heard it first when we arrived here, looking around your park, but I hadn't the chance to play it yet. Mother insists I stay away from the piano when father's home, because he doesn't enjoy it when I play..."

Something uncomfortable clicked in my mind, but I was too focused on his words to pay attention to it. Christine did not want him playing? That idiot Vicomte does not appreciate what a talent his son was?! The thought had me outraged...and the boy...hearing melodies in his head with inspiration just from the sight of something, and then being able to produce a full, brilliant piece out of them...it was so strange...so rare...

It was my own way of composing.

I felt the air leave my lungs, and without realising, my feet began carrying me forward, so I was able to look over his small shoulder. I shook my head behind his back. No, this was just my imagination. I was getting ahead of myself. Both Christine and her father before her had been blessed with musical talent. Gustave had obviously just been blessed with more...with the kind of talent I had never seen in anyone else before.

My eyes slipped to his small, white hands, and I frowned. The left was moving rapidly, as if easing the right along, and I could tell immediately that this boy had had no training. This was from his own teaching. Any professional would have instructed him to have the hand holding the melody acting as the most comfortable, but I knew how uncomfortable finding that balance had been in my early days of playing...I, like this boy, was left-handed.

His composition came to a close, and he looked over his shoulder at me, as if waiting for remarks on his playing. Only then, in the dark space of my office, did a fleck of gold shine out from his eyes and startle me so much I stumbled back from him.

"My God..." I gripped my face and turned away from him. The cold mask beneath my right hand told me I was dreaming; it was the reason I was not one hundred percent sure in my accusation, and, too proud, I let my hands fall once again and forgot about it. "My God!"

If this boy was truly who I thought he was, then surely he must think like me? Surely he must see the beauty in things others just could not manage? The temptation of having _anyone_ following my thoughts was too great to withold. I glided back to him and kneeled in front of the stool, resting my hands on his shoulders. "I have something to show you." I decided as I spoke. "I want to know what you think."

He followed me eagerly, just as I had expected him to. I led him to the part of my park not accessible to paying customers, accessible only to myself and my most trusted employees. Madame Giry herself did not know about this section of the park, where all of my most wonderful creations existed.

I saw, with pure wonder and joy, that the boy's face was open to everything, his eyes wide with awe. So much like myself...

I introduced him to all of my greatest accomplishments, in my own opinion, and was pleased at his captivation. A number of times he ran ahead of me to get a closer look at something, and I regarded him from a distance, ever doubting myself, though sure at the same time.

"It's all so beautiful," he murmured. I chuckled and stopped immediately at the feeling of his small hand in my own, tugging me along to keep up with him. His fingers were so small around my own, and I ordered myself to tighten my hand around his instead of leaving it slack in his hold.

"This does not worry you?"

He shook his head, unable to look away from the wonders of my park as he answered. "Not at all. This is what I'd dreamed of seeing here. Thank you, Mister Y."

"Gustave, these are the things shunned from society." Just as myself. I pulled him to a stop and knelt down in front of him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "You are the one person I have ever met so intrigued by these things. The one other person who can see the beauty of them...I feel we are almost the same person. With our music, as well."

"Is there music in your head?" he asked in almost a whisper. I nodded silently and watched as his eyes filled with an emotion I could not name. I received my answer as I realised I felt the same way; we were finally with someone who understood. Never in my life had I found someone who could understand me this way, and from the look in this boy's eyes, neither had he.

"We understand each other, Gustave." my heart began racing as I thought through my next moves. No, he could handle it. The boy thought the same way I did. He was amazed at everything I'd shown him so far. Why would my face be any different. "I feel I can reveal myself to you more than I have been able to do so with anyone else." his eyes, an identical match to my own, focused on me steadily as my hand reached for the mask...

His piercing scream hit me before the force of his arms pushed me away and I cursed myself, regret and rejection slicing me in half as I scurried farther away from him, a reaction to give him space like the few who had seen my face in such a situation had required in the past. I did not automatically lunge with death on my mind at my shame anymore. I was a changed man, and so made distance between us just as the love of my life's voice called her son's name, obviously beckoned by his cry for help. It appeared Miss Fleck had escorted her into my private section of the park.

"It's horrible!" my heart, so hopeful just a moment ago, shattered at the words spilling from the boy's mouth and I watched from a careful distance, aware she had not taken any notice to me yet. Distantly, I realised I had not replaced my mask, but at this moment, when she was asking Miss Fleck to return to the suite with her son, I simply did not care.

"I am so sorry," she was saying, to me now. "Please forgive him. He meant no harm..." she thought he had initiated my revelation...my blood boiled at the pity in her eyes and I slammed my hand down on the crate beside me.

"How could you think I would not guess?" I began dangerously, wandering toward her slowly, my hand pressed to the right side of my face. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head in misunderstanding as I got closer, closer. "How could you think I would not know?!"

"Oh no," she breathed, her lips parting in horror as he eyes deadened, the dark orbs I had pined over for so many years falling to the ground between us.

"Do you have something to confess, Christine? The truth now, if you please!" I seized her neck in my rage, just tight enough to threaten her, but not damaging in the least. The feeling of her warm, soft flesh beneath my fingertips sent a shiver up my arm, and I resisted the urge to pull her to myself and hold her in my unending embrace. In my anger, I was known to do unjust things, and I would not be foolish again in Christine's presence. Not in a situation like this.

"You left me," she gasped, her fingers prying at my arm. "You left _us!" _the confirmation in her words left me feeling numb, and my arm fell slack, dropping to my side as I turned from her, my thoughts a muddle. It had been enough when I'd known for myself, but having Christine tell me I was correct...it felt more real than I could ever have imagined. Someone so beautiful...to have come from such a monster.

Her voice was in desperate sobs when she continued. "Erik, believe me, I wished you could have known. I kept the secret hid from my marriage, from everyone...what _else_ could I have done? I had no one. I had nowhere to go. You left, and you took my only family with you. All three of you disappeared from my world and the only person I was left with was Raoul. Please do not blame this on me."

I released a heavy sigh and dropped the hand which was still hiding my face, turning to her slowly, studying her reaction so closely my eyes threatened to ache. She had not seen my face for ten years, and even so, she did not so much as flinch. Her eyes were hard, as if she had convinced herself she would not shy away from seeing my once more. She had known which image she was about to be presented with, and she had prepared herself. The respect and love I felt for her in that instant overwhelmed me and I moved toward her once more.

"My own flesh and blood..." I murmured in a raspy voice unfamiliar to even myself. "And even he recoils in horror for me...as you did once, Christine." at my words, she flinched, and I threw her a bitter smile.

"He shuns me, Christine. Take him and leave. Go back to France; forget me. Just do _not_," I broke off, wondering if I would actually be able to say this. All my life, what I had dreamed for most was a family. People who would accept me and love me; people I was sure were a part of me, who would care for such a beast. I had finally been given that chance, and God had ripped it away from me in His cruel way once again.

I tried, once again, to finish my sentence. "Do not ever let him know."

"I swear it," she choked, rushing forward to stand right before me again, just as close as we had been a moment ago. I studied her through what I knew must be pathetically pained eyes, and for once I did not care for the emotion I was freely showing. She needed to know how strongly she was still embedded in my soul. I wanted her to see the torture she put me through. "You have my word, Erik. And as well as that, I'd promised I would sing for you. Your music will not remain unheard. I made my promise, and I will go through with it." her hands raised to grasp my arms, her grip becoming stronger as she continued talking, and I closed my eyes for the shortest of moments to savour the feel of her touching me of her own will, even if it was through two layers of clothing and hardly anything more than a friendly gesture.

"Erik, I am so sorry," she murmured, her eyes softening once more. She obviously saw the hard, stubborn look return to my eyes at her sympathy, for she leaned forward and held her face so close to my own, her hands cupping my jaw, her flawless right cheek barely brushing the disgusting distortion of my own as I froze at her touch and watched her in disbelief. Could this really be happening?

"Christine," I breathed as she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to take her back into my arms and kiss her, show her how much she meant to me, let her know I would never let any harm come to herself or Gustave. They were all I had in this world - my park meant nothing to me now in comparison to the both of them, and I was not about to forget about them. She had to know that.

"Thank you," was all I said as she nodded once more with a small smile and left me.

Only when she was gone did I let the tears well in my eyes as Gustave's cry ran through my mind for the hundredth time. How could I ever feel accepted when my own son, someone linked to me internally, someone so like myself, could not even look at me?

I retrieved my wig and mask, scuffed from the fury I had thrown it with, and began retracing my footsteps through the park. I did not care that the boy had shunned me. He was my _son._ Suddenly, the child who had seemed like a threat, as though Christine had truly forgotten about me and built her life with that ridiculous Vicomte, was the new point of light in my life. Christine and I were bound now, through that boy. She would never be able to escape me without forgetting her own son, who she obviously cared for more than I had ever seen her care for anything before. It was beautiful, the connection the two of them had, and once again I felt forgotten and alienated at not being able to share in it.

Gustave may not care for me, but I did for him. I made a promise to myself to give him everything I ever made for myself throughout my life. This park, the park he took such a liking to, he would someday claim it as his own. I had not been there for the first decade of his life, but I could give him this. I vowed it, claiming it out loud as I entered the public side of my park, unaware of the studious eyes following my every move.

**Christine's POV**

The look in Erik's eyes haunted me as Gustave and I walked back to the suite, hand in hand. My son had not said anything since we'd left, and I would be grateful to return to the hotel and speak to him about what had happened. For once, I was hoping Raoul would have turned to the bar instead of waiting around for us.

I was lucky; my husband was nowhere to be seen upon our arrival. Gustave kept walking, directly toward his room, and I stopped awkwardly in the center of the living room and called him back.

"Gustave, would you mind speaking with me for a moment?"

His eyes were wary, and perhaps slightly ashamed, but he frowned at me. He did not want to speak. Still he turned around and walked toward me, never looking me in the eye.

"Did you take Mr. Y's mask?" I asked gently.

"No," his voice was soft, and I had to strain to hear it, his face directed at the carpet beneath us.

I was surprised. My son was not a liar, which meant...Erik had revealed himself to Gustave...I'd never dreamed of him showing his face to anyone. Even now, when he almost seemed a completely different person, he had not mentioned the mask that covered half of his face. Physically, at the very least, he seemed exactly the same, despite the ten years since the last time I'd seen him.

The fact that Erik had trusted someone enough, even if it had been his own son, was what struck me hardest. Erik had lifted away the one thing that kept him centered enough to live in the world, among other people, put himself in his most vulnerable state, and Gustave had pushed him away. This thought made my heart break, but I wouldn't fail now in front of my son.

"Gustave," I dropped to my knees in front of him, taking up his small hands and watching him closely until he looked down at me. For the first time, I realised how tall he had gotten, and felt the maternal fear of my child growing up and leaving me behind. "You must know that man has suffered throughout his life. He spent years being shunned from the world -"

"And rightfully so," Gustave clinged painfully to my hands, terrified as he had been when I had found him only a short time ago. "You didn't see it, mother. You didn't see what he was hiding!"

"I have seen it before." I said sternly. He froze, and his eyes looked puzzled.

"Is that why you hadn't seen each other in ten years? Did you scream too?"

"I was frightened the first time." I admitted quietly. "But that was all. He was so angry...I think I was more frightened of his temper than his face, Gustave. But I came to know him better, and you mustn't think of him as a monster. He deserves more, darling. He is one of the most brilliant men I have ever met, and I was so lucky to have him."

There was something in Gustave's eyes that I couldn't quite pinpoint, and he raised his hand to trace around my eyes. "He's the one you were talking about."

"When, darling?"

"When you said to look with your heart." I was silent, and Gustave's black eyes burned back into my own. "Did you love him, mother?"

"A ridiculous question, Gustave." I rose to my feet once more and looked toward the door of our suite, should Raoul walk in. "I am married to your father, aren't I?"

He was quiet, seeming as though he were looking at something that was not present. I followed his eyesight and found nothing, relieved that he was just lost somewhere else in his mind and we hadn't had an unexpected guest. "Though, I would appreciate if you weren't to speak about Mister Y in front of your father."


	27. Chapter 27

**It was my birthday on the 30th and I was going to post this chapter then, but my computer decided to stop working because I got an iPhone 5 and iTunes went crazy and my laptop wouldn't tolerate the internet, so I'm doing it now. Sorry again for the long wait! I'm really trying to get all of this up.**

**And thank you for the response since last chapter. It's good to know there's still an interest taken in this story.**

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**Erik's POV**

The door to my office flew open, protesting loudly on the wall behind it as it bounced back and was caught by a long-nailed hand. I looked up from my work casually, smiling in an out-of-character way at the somewhat embarrassed blonde before me. I did not take the time to comment on her abrupt appearance.

"Ahh, Miss Giry, just the young lady I wished to see."

"What is this about, Erik?" her hands clasped together in front of her lap eagerly, ruffling the feathers of her new performance dress, seemingly unaware that I had flinched at her brave use of my first name. "You pulled me out of a rehearsal."

"And I can see you are using this to your advantage."

"I am aware you're in need of something." she began walking toward me and sat in the chair on the opposite side of my desk. "And may I ask for something in return?"

"What would you like, Meg?" my voice was gentle, but my eyes held a warning. I was well aware that I was in debt to the Giry women, but their ideas had become more and more ludicrous over the last years, and I was worried as to what the girl's mother could have planted in her mind now.

"I would like to be the star of our end of season show." she said immediately. "I think I have done enough for Phantasma this year to be given the spotlight, Erik. And mother said you've been composing like you used to again. Just give me the chance, Erik. I know I could do it!"

"You also know the Vicomtesse has been assigned the finale of our last show." I said calmly. Her nose flared jealously, but she held back anything she was going to say. "You will have your own time to shine in the show, Miss Giry, but it will not be the last thing people see before leaving."

"What would you like?" she asked bitterly.

"I want you to keep a close eye on the Viscount today. Just keep him out of the way of his wife and myself. There are some things I wish to speak to her about."

"And how do you propose I do that? He's not going to follow me around like a dog!"

"I do not care about that. I suspect you will be able to keep him entertained for a great amount of time at the bar. Or perform for him! You have missed out on a practice this morning, and I doubt he will miss the chance to witness the vulgarity your generation call entertainment."

"It's your work,"

"And definitely not the kind of work I had intended to produce upon coming here." I stood from my desk and opened the door, dismissing her. "Thank you, Miss Giry. I will be sure to repay you _appropriately._"

"Erik," she turned just before she had left completely and held the door open, her fingers just inches from my own. When she spoke again her voice was gentler, a concerned note present, and her eyes were wide and soft, as if she were a whole other person than the woman I had spoken to moments ago.

"I just want to make sure you know what you're doing. Christine is married now. She has changed. I spoke to her yesterday, and she's different. She's not the same girl you fell in love with -"

"Thank you, Miss Giry -"

"Just watch out, okay, Erik? I would hate to see anything happen to you." her fingers slipped the rest of the distance down the doorframe to brush against my own gloved hand, then she smiled sweetly, appearing to be the teenager I had stirred trouble with at the Paris Opera House and turned to go about the duties I had assigned to her. I narrowed my eyes at her behaviour and retrieved my cloak, leaving my office the secret way to watch the suite until Meg had made her appearance and successfully lured the Viscount out of my way. It was noon. By all luck, he would have already found his way down to the bar by now.

The suite was empty when I made it to the one-sided mirror. I watched for any sign of movement, and did not have to wait long before Christine burst through the door, laughing loudly with Gustave - _my son _-, their hands intertwined as they shared their private joke. Their faces were flushed, and Christine's curls had been pulled away from her face, a straw hat draped over her arm by its ribbons. They had obviously visited the park, and I was delighted to see the Viscount had not accompanied them back to the hotel room.

"Why don't you go and wash up?" my angel said once they had composed themselves. She brushed back the dark hair atop Gustave's head, giving him a warm smile. "I will have lunch ready for you once you've finished."

Gustave left without another word, in the direction of the bathroom, and I took my chance to slip around to the entrance of the suite and knocked politely. She answered the door after a moment's pause and her chocolate eyes widened before she pulled the door closed behind herself, leaving us alone in the hallway.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"No formalities, please," I groaned.

She frowned, her face turning toward the suite for a moment. "We have to talk about our situation, don't we?"

"I think that would be for the best."

"Gustave's inside."

"I do not think it would be most appropriate to have the boy present."

She nodded, releasing a long sigh. "I will just make him his lunch. Will you come in?"

I followed her into the suite, my eyes constantly flicking to the direction of the bathroom should the boy make an appearance. Christine made sandwiches with things from the stocked cupboards quickly, and I listened as she left to speak to her son.

"Gustave, I am just going out for a while. I won't be gone long."

"Is father back?"

"No, but I am going to trust you to stay here by yourself. You have your violin and the piano. Will you promise me not to leave the room?"

"But where are you going?"

"I'm just going to speak to someone about my performance. I need to sort some things out."

"Will Mister Y be there?"

"I'm not sure Gustave." her words came out with a sigh, telling him she did not wish to speak about the subject. I leaned forward when there was a moment of silence.

"I won't leave."

"Thank you," I heard her kiss him and leaned back, as if to pretend I had not been eaves dropping. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

The bathroom door closed once more and Christine made her way back to the kitchen, combing her tangled hair with her fingers before pinning it back neatly once more and taking up her forgotten hat. "Shall we go?"

**Christine's POV**

Erik held out his arm for me to take while we walked through the streets in Phantasma. His appearance in the normal world, under the sunshine was enough to leave me bewildered, but on top of that he acted like a completely normal and respectable gentleman. There were a number of people who looked on curiously as we walked through the park, but their glances were not what I had been expecting. While in Paris, Erik would not have been accepted for a moment, here he had built a home for himself and people like him, to live in sanctuary without having to worry about their physical appearance. I wanted to stop him to tell him I thought he was a genius, but could not bring myself to do so. Things were still not right between us and I wanted to learn all about this new Erik before I tried to speak to him as if we had been in touch for the past ten years.

He took me to a cosy-looking café in the center of Phantasma. He had the waiter sit us at the best table in the room, where I could see the ocean from the window. Erik ordered for us both, doing very well, I must say, then cleared his throat to have me look at him.

"I should not have done that yesterday."

"Kidnapped my son?"

"Revealed myself. To _our_ son."

"Erik..." I sighed and looked at my hands. What could I say to him? To leave Gustave alone? Act as though he did not know any better about Gustave's true parentage? I felt as though I were breaking everyone's hearts at once, and I didn't know what to do. "You said yourself you never wanted Gustave to find out...perhaps it would be better if we all just pretended -"

"That he came from that _fop?!"_

"Erik, please -"

"No, Christine," he hissed. I knew had it been just the two of us his words would not have sounded so relaxed, gentle. He would have spat them at me and talked so loudly I would have been afraid to respond. "Just to think that he exists is enough for me. I would not have him knowing the truth, but I will be damned if I keep it from myself as well. Do you know how lonely these past ten years have been for me?"

"For you," I repeated angrily, folding my hands tight, my fingers painfully clenching around each other. "It must have been impossible to be surrounded by so many people who respect you." I waved my arm in the direction of his workers, who had done everything in their power to make sure we were served perfectly upon Erik's arrival. "Erik, they don't even take notice of your mask. Do you not see what an improvement you've made on your life? You're so different from the man I had come to know..." I was silent as our food was served and I mumbled a quiet thank you as Erik continued to watch me, saying nothing.

I was aware of his intense eyes completely trained on me, but began eating silently, wondering how to begin conversation again. I wasn't completely sure why he'd brought me here, so I was waiting for him to say something else. After almost ten minutes of silence I looked up, frowning at his untouched food. "Aren't you going to eat something?"

"I left you." he said simply. My eyebrows pulled together and I swallowed thickly as he continued. "I left you because I wasn't good enough. Not because I did not want with all my being to stay with you." his voice broke, leaving me speechless. Was he truly so upset to be...crying?

"What could I have done for you in Paris, Christine? All I ever wanted was for you not to be ashamed of me. To think of me as someone who could bring you all the happiness in the world. That was all I ever wanted to do, Christine. That's why I was put on this earth; to live for you. To give you everything you deserve."

My own eyes began to well up, and I reached across the table to place my hand upon his. "I'm sorry," I said softly, regretting the things I'd said to him since returning. "I did not know -"

"Do you really think I could ever forget about you? I thought of you every single day. I have a book full of letters to you; one for every day I was without you. I built this park for you! I built a world where I could be accepted with the idea in my mind that one day I would be able to walk down a sun filled street with you and not be shunned from the people around us! I wanted you to think of me as a normal man. Someone you could spend a proper life with."

"Erik," I gasped, my heart breaking all over again. His own eyes were watery now, and as a single tear came free and slipped over his bare left cheek my arms ached with need to reach out and hold him; give him the impossible reassurance that I would never leave him again; that all I wanted was to spend the rest of my life here, with him, away from the world of being a Vicomtesse and my incompatibility with my own husband.

He watched me for a moment longer, then stood from the table and walked swiftly to the door, an American note of money appearing like magic on the table in front of him. I followed him, catching his arm before he could make it completely onto the street. "Erik, where are you going?"

"I can't be around you just now, Christine. I will say something I will regret."

"Take me somewhere private. There are things I wish to ask you. And say myself!"

"Christine..." he gripped my hands, lifting them slightly as if he were going to kiss them, then lowered them with a sigh. "Come with me."


	28. Chapter 28

It only took us a few minutes, and we arrived at an empty room. I was confused for a moment, then looking around, thought of it to be something like a small museum. Pictures were present on all of the walls, along with small bits and pieces of things I could not decipher. There were also models of buildings that seemed rather familiar. I wandered over to the first photograph on the wall; it showed bare land, the ocean just present to one side of the picture. Underneath it was a date, almost a decade previous.

"This room shows how Phantasma was built. It is rarely used. I believe we will have privacy here." Just to be sure, he slid the bolt of the door across to guarantee no one walking in on our conversation.

I wandered from photograph to photograph, seeing things I now recognised as buildings and attractions from his park. My eyes became misty at the sketch of his concert hall, the original looking strangely like the Populaire, until the sketches became more like what the present building was. The photographs to the right of them all showed the building's construction, and underneath them all was a small vase which held a single red rose, tied with a black ribbon. I touched the petals lightly and found it to be the same as the false flowers in our hotel suite.

"Erik, this is incredible."

"And _this _room is only accessible to myself." he said, taking a key out of his pocket and opening a door on the opposite wall, standing back to let me enter first. This room was more untidy than the first, a long sloped desk in front of a comfortable looking chair covered in unfinished sketches and books and writing equipment. An fireplace full of charred wood and ash was in the corner, facing a long sofa holding a number of thick books. "This is where I design."

"Can I see some things?" I asked hopefully, aware of how his arm was almost curled around me, still holding open the door. If I took just one step back, I would find myself pressed against him...

"Perhaps later. When they are finished." he said quietly, leading me to the sofa. I sat immediately and watched the dead fireplace as he lowered himself onto the cushions beside me. "I am sorry for acting inappropriately earlier."

"You did not act inappropriately at all -"

"I did," he insisted. "I want you to tell me what you want from me. If you do not wish for me to speak about the boy at all, I will not. If that is easier for you. And as for my saying I had built the park for you -"

"I am flattered." I cut him off.

He seemed speechless for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"It was all I'd ever dreamed of, only I hadn't known it." I continued. I found it difficult to look at him, so focused on his perfect fingers instead, wishing more than anything at that moment I could take them in my hands and study them with my own fingers. I sighed and closed my eyes to clear my mind. "There are so many things I wish I could say to you right at this moment."

"You don't have to keep anything from me." his voice was gentle, coaxing, and I looked up at him once more.

"You keep things from me. Why should this be any different? I'm sure if I said some of the things begging me to let them escape my lips, this would only end badly."

"We could make an agreement." he seemed to force the words out, as if doing so was hurting him. I could tell this was not an idea he was completely happy about. "Anything we say today cannot leave this room. We will tell each other what we must, then go about our lives as if nothing had ever happened."

The idea was too appealing. I knew that could not ever work out, but I wanted so desperately to tell him how I felt that I agreed, the weight of secrets and lies on my chest feeling heavier than it had for a decade.

As we spoke, our bodies somehow came closer and closer to each other, until we were seated so closely that I could have turned sideways and have our knees touch. Our eyes bored into one another's, and I lost myself so completely in those black orbs that the words I'd held for so long slipped out effortlessly. I did not even have to think over them.

It was only when I began speaking about Raoul that his posture stiffened and his hands clenched together tightly. I did not say anything negative about my marriage; to be completely honest I wanted to torture Erik just a little bit - tease him with not entirely true stories about my life in France.

"Enough," he said, halfway through my sentence. "This is not what I planned to talk about."

"No, because it is not keeping you happy. You only came today to make yourself seem like the better person, didn't you? You came to make me realise I should have chosen you to begin with."

"I came today to speak to a woman I have been desperate to see for a decade!" his own voice was raised, and he almost shouted at me. He pushed himself from our seat and began striding away from me. "Not to hear about her perfect life with the man I hate most in the world!"

"Perfect life?" I repeated with a shaky laugh. "Erik, I did not say anything about a perfect life! I've had far from it these past ten years."

"Oh, I can imagine." he said, chuckling darkly. He leaned over the sketching desk, his back to me. "Being pampered every day of your life must have been extremely difficult Christine. I can see how building an entire theme park from absolutely nothing - a life lived _alone -_ is the desired when sided with living in a Vicomte's estate. Living with a family; your perfect life with your perfect marriage -"

"My marriage is far from perfect." I'd risen from the sofa myself, my finger raised to him, and he must have sensed the anger in my voice, for his hands left the table and he watched me from over his shoulder, turning slowly. "Don't you dare make assumptions about my life, Erik. You have no idea." I began making my way to the door, but his hand caught my forearm and held me strongly. Reaction took over from being grabbed in such a way before, and I did my best to jerk out of his grip, but to no avail. I could barely worm my way out of my husband's grip, and Erik's was a whole lot surer.

"Let me go," I whispered, unable to look at him now. I regretted my words. I only hoped he had not read too much into them to begin asking questions.

"Look at me, Christine." he said quietly. His voice was gentle once more, coaxing me, hypnotising me, but I did not obey.

"Please just let me go, Erik."

"What is it?" his thumb rubbed against the skin on my arm; an attempt to calm me enough to submit to him. I finally looked up, my eyes pained - silently telling him what I wanted so badly to hide.

"What did he do to you?"

"What?" my façade of a perfect wife slipped on immediately and I looked as if he were crazy. "Who?"

"Do not look away from me." his voice was stern, but still beautiful and my eyes snapped back to his own, which broke contact to study my features more closely. I thought back to powdering my face that morning, but apparently my makeup could not hide everything from him, because his ice cold fingers brushed my upper right cheek, where the graze I had received months before had scarred to look as though it were slight skin discolouration.

"What is this?"

"I have always had that, Erik."

"You have not." he retrieved a folded handkerchief from his waistcoat pocked and hesitated before putting the end into his mouth for a moment, then began brushing it gently across my cheek a couple of times. Once again, I was unable to look at him. "It is a scar." he said quietly. "I know...your skin was always perfect." he shook his head, as if unable to believe the truth and his fingers found my skin again.

"Erik, you are overreacting. It's hardly visible anymore."

"And when was it visible?" he asked, straightening his posture.

"Months ago,"

"How did it happen?"

"I fell." I said, feeling completely stupid. What else could I say? I'd been lying on the carpet and just happened to graze my face?

"You fell," he repeated. "On what?"

"The carpet."

"On your way to bed." he finished.

"Yes," the word slipped out before I'd been able to hold it in, and I realised too late what he'd been doing. He was too wise at knowing my mind, and able to muddle it what seemed effortlessly.

I jumped as he swore and stood perfectly still, afraid to move as he pushed the table over, throwing his hands against the wall behind it. He paused, breathing heavily, and I watched, desperately trying to think of something to say. In another second he had turned and rushed toward me, freezing when I flinched away from him.

"Oh, Christine," he took my hands gently, holding them to his chest. "Did he take advantage of you?"

"Erik," tears welled in my eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen! Raoul was my _husband _- I could not betray him to the man in front of me. But I knew Erik would know either way, and I would not risk him getting angry again. So, to be loyal to my husband and to do my best to keep Erik happy I said the only thing present in my mind. "You _know_ he has problems, Erik! That is _my_ fault, not his. It's my fault for being the most terrible wife in the world, and that is because of _you! _But it is like he is two different people; at times he can be the most charming man in the world, and at others..." I trailed off, unable to say anything negative in my situation. "But he was always sorry when he'd sobered. Always."

"How many times did this happen, Christine?"

"It was not often." I closed myself off again and looked at him stubbornly, trying not to seem terrified over my big mouth.

"How often?" he asked slowly, dangerously.

"It only happened on two occasions." I insisted. "And one of those times was when Gustave was just a baby. I've forgiven him; you have no part in this."

"And how often was he violent toward you?"

"I do not wish to speak about this to you." I attempted to push past him to the door once more, but he held me.

"I can help you, Christine." I could hear his voice shaking with anger. "I can get you away from him."

I sighed heavily. "Oh, he is my husband, Erik!" I reminded him.

"Phantasma is yours, if you will have it. You can start again, away from him."

"No," as I said this I stepped away from him again, and this time he let me go. "No, you missed your chance." the expression on his face broke my heart and I refused to let myself cry again. "We missed our chance."

He was not looking at me as I left the room and pulled the door closed behind myself. I was grateful. I could not have bared to see him in such a state again. My heart screamed at me to return to him, but my mind told me I was doing the right thing by walking away, dragging my heavy feet all the way back to the hotel and up the stairs to the suite. I had not realised how long I'd been away for; the sun was already beginning its descent in the sky. I'd promised Gustave I would not be any longer than two hours, when I had probably been around five. Time had slipped through my fingers being so close to Erik, and I struggled to remember how we'd spent it.

I was surprised upon walking through the beautifully carved door of the suite to find Raoul inside, sitting on the carpet in the drawing room and watching the fire. I walked to him slowly, testing the air around him for traces of alcohol, disappointed when I smelled it.

"Good afternoon, Raoul."

"Christine," he reached up and took my hand, pulling me down to him, looking up at me desperately. I frowned and kneeled beside him, placing my hand on his cheek. My eyes looked over him, trying to decipher why he seemed so upset, and rested on the red splotches on the cheek I hadn't raised my hand to. I did now, however, and rubbed my finger against the colour, smudging it to his jaw.

"What is this?" I asked quietly.

"What?"

"Lipstick," I felt rage well up inside of me and I wiped my finger clean on the collar of his shirt. "Who have you been with?"

He moved forward as I attempted to stand once more and reached out to me. "No, Christine, I haven't been - I -" he paused and took a deep breath, and I resisted the urge to slap him. His words were coming out slurred and I was having a hard time following him. "Miss Giry took me to her rehearsals. We went to the pub afterwards. I promise nothing happened. Her friends were just...overly friendly upon departing."

I shook my head, feeling like a fool and stood to look down upon him and show him how appalled I was at his behaviour. Here I was, telling myself over and over again to resist what my heart was telling me and stay true to my husband while he watched seemingly promiscuous dancing girls and allowed them to have their hands all over him. I hardly noticed he was crying until he held the hem of my dress and lowered his eyes.

"Where were you, Christine?"

"I had business to attend to." I said firmly.

He looked up at me pathetically with watery eyes and sympathy flooded through me at once. "I don't want you to leave me." he said through a choked voice. "Please do not leave me. I promise I will sort myself out. I promise you."

"Raoul," I kneeled beside him once more and took his hands from my skirt. "Please stop this. It's only early evening and you've drunk yourself stupid. Go and rest. I will have dinner ready for when you wake up."

"Don't leave me." he begged me again, and I gave him a long look before helping him to his feet and managing my best smile. It still appeared sad and defeated.

"You are my husband." was all I said before nudging him gently toward the master bedroom. I watched him go and released a long sigh, wishing I could take this one day back and perform it again. I'd broken two of the men I'd loved the most today, and I couldn't bear to think about it. Instead I turned to the kitchen and busied myself with a difficult dinner, despite my perfectly ordinary cooking skills. Gustave appeared when I felt I was about to break down completely, and for him I put on a good show, drawing strength from the one person in the world I felt understood me best.


	29. Chapter 29

**So sorry I haven't uploaded a chapter in so long! I've had computer troubles again. Internet troubles this time, actually. But as of four days ago, I'm back.**

**Having troubles with this one. I'm not really feeling this story at the moment. It just doesn't seem good enough. I have the rest planned out, but I'm seriously doubting myself. An anonymous reviewer, Ruby Blue Belle is one of the biggest reasons this chapter is going up. Thank you so much for letting me see it's still being appreciated.**

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**Erik's POV**

I could not face Christine again. Not after what had happened to our conversation. Sleep evaded me that night. Every time I closed my eyes I would see that idiot Vicomte raising his hand to my love, and that image alone was enough to keep my eyes wide open. I decided to pay him a visit. I knew I could not kill him; that would be much too suspicious, and I had pulled myself away from that path. I had not killed a single person during my time in America - something I had improved about myself to become just a little more worthy of my angel. No, I was going to pay him a visit and hurt him still, mentally, not physically.

I had only to wait for him, pounce when he was unsuspecting and out of his comfort zone. I would not act in the safety of the suite I had allowed him to live in during his stay; there was another place, where he had spent just as much time, if not more. So I waited, watching over the Phantasma bar, out of sight from the few customers indulging themselves so early in the morning. The Viscount had shown himself before dawn, and I wondered if he'd silently left the hotel room without his family knowing. I knew that with the dawning of the new day, there was the great chance that all of the other customers would clear out for a break from alcohol, and I proved to be correct. I watched him for a few moments, wondering when to act, but hesitated as the door to the bar was flung open once more and none other than Little Giry entered.

Their encounter was brief, but proved to be quite fulfilling for my eavesdropping. A warning from the young woman that had me smirking from my hiding place. A warning for Raoul to take Christine. I would not let that happen again. With the threat she left behind her still echoing in my ears, I felt a stronger sense of protection over the soprano well up inside of me, telling me to do absolutely everything in my power to throw him off track, as had been my intentions all morning. Now however, I wanted it impossibly more.

"I'm not afraid of him!" he shouted at the now-closed door, her figure already having fled from ear-shot. By the time he had returned to the main space of the now otherwise-empty room I had left my hiding place and taken a spot behind the bar, turning threateningly when he was close enough. He took a quick step away from me, and I was satisfied to see horror and disbelief flash through those sure blue eyes.

I also read through his expression something I had not been expecting. He had not truly believed I had been here this whole time, though he had been told. I was completely aware that he had been informed. Perhaps living with the idea of my death for a decade had been enough to assure him it was an impossibility? Perhaps his sub consciousness had simply held onto the thought that I no longer walked on this earth, blinding him in my very own theme park?

"Not afraid of me, you say?" I asked with a low chuckle, very aware of how dangerous my voice sounded right at that moment.

"Stay back," he said unsurely, holding out a hand. "Or I will kill you, I promise you!"

I wished to laugh, but instead raised my eyebrow and spoke softly. "You think you own more of her soul than I do?"

He frowned, and I was satisfied that I had already begun testing his beliefs about his own marriage. I would not stop until my work was finished, and silently begged him to take the bait I had offered. "She is my wife," he said slowly, obeying me without knowing it. "Your music may speak to her, but her heart will always follow me."

"You think so," I gave him an amused look, and the confident air new about him faltered. "Follow you, and all your...charms," I grinned and waved an arm toward him. "But was the Vicomtess aware she had tied herself to a gambling drunk?" at his expense, I shook my head. "Pitiful,"

"You have no right to say such things! A monster as _hideous and horrible _as you should -"

_"A bet,"_ I began sternly. "Seeing as you seem to favour such things, Monsieur..."

"I accept," he said at once, and I grinned, not for a moment feeling the slightest bit of guilt at messing with the mind of someone so intoxicated. "What are the terms?"

"The end of season performance," I said slowly, as if to help him understand. "If Christine sings, she stays with me. If Christine sings, you leave America. Leave her to me. Let her forget you."

His expression angered, but he turned up his chin and looked toward me with stone-hard eyes. "Fine," his voice was strong. "But if I win?"

"I will settle any debts you have come here to resolve,"

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded once and raised his hand for us to seal the terms. "Very well," he swayed for a moment in his state and I gripped his arm more tightly, knowing it would be extremely uncomfortable to him in receiving, though it seemed I was being helpful. He frowned at me, looking strangely smug. "You think you have all the odds, don't you?" he slurred. "I do not want to burst your bubble or anything, _Opera Ghost,_ but in case you don't remember, she left with _me_ last time. And it should not be a surprise to either of us should she do it again."

"Let us leave that to her to decide." I said softly, a warning.

He rolled his eyes and stepped away from me, under the impression he had already won. "But you see, I have the upper hand." he said with an uneven smile. "We've a son; our bond's secure."

Something pierced through me at the mention of him calling the boy his own, and I immediately rose to my own defense. "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?" he sounded as though he suspected I had lost my mind.

"A strange child to see for his age. His talent...so _musical_. It is rare, do you not think? Why, I am only aware of one other quite similar..." I trailed off suggestively, and his expression was unreadable, his eyes blank and wide, perhaps sorting through memories he had and pinning them to what I was now saying. "Is he more you or me, Vicomte?"

"No," he shook his head quickly, his eyes squeezed shut, and I grinned malevolently, cherishing the way he seemed to crumble right before me. "No woman could ever - _look _at you! How could she _ever _love someone like you...no," he shook his head again. "You're insane."

"We shall see," I began walking toward the exit of the bar, aware that he was following behind me, drunk beyond reasoning. I turned only to remind him of our terms. "She refuses me, you leave together; pockets full, debts paid. She sings, you leave alone,"

}~*~{

**Christine's POV**

Gustave and I were having breakfast at a small café almost in the center of the park. The sun shone brightly on the both of us, and I grinned at him as he spoke quickly, his fork bearing pancakes poised only inches from his busy mouth.

"Eat, darling, and then speak." I said with a slight laugh. I sighed and raised my tea to my lips, glancing toward a particular feature of the park from which screams of delight were heard. Right here, with just my son and a whole other world that seemed too new to me every time I saw it, it was so easy to forget the messy state my life was in. I concentrated on nothing - no one - but my son and the happiness we were able to find in each other. I only had him to rely on, and I knew he only had me. We were quite alone in the world, when it came to complete trust. Not even my husband belonged in our small circle with us...

My lips twisted and looking back toward my son I gave him a questioning look. "What are we going to do today?"

"Ride on the Ferris wheel," he immediately said, and I nodded in agreement. "And then we should find father. I want him to see the park as well." there was sadness in his eyes that had me leaning automatically across the table and grasping his hand.

"Your father will join us shortly," I promised, not truly believing it myself. "Just give him time to adjust to his new surroundings, and he'll -"

"No, he won't." he said, cutting me off and looking at me with an unwavering stare.

I frowned. "Gustave, please don't speak about your father so negatively. He is struggling, as you are well aware."

"He is not struggling." he protested. "He's just being father!"

"Your father is going through a difficult time at the moment," _Because of myself..._ "You must forgive him for his actions. He is lost."

"He's exactly where he wants to be." my son said stubbornly, for a moment forgetting his pancakes and crossing his arms across his chest. "And if he cared about us at all, he would give up on drinking and spend time with us, too!"

"Gustave!" I set my cup down on the table and gave him the best disapproving look I could muster, satisfied when I saw him uncomfortably look away from me. "You speak as though you are older than you are, young man. I think you forget just how young you are at times. Don't you ever speak of your father like that again, do you hear me?"

He did not say anything, but did not resume eating again, either. I resisted the urge to apologise and instead nudged his plate closer to him. "Finish your breakfast and we'll go home to rest. We've had a big few days. A nap will do us good before coming out again."

He agreed silently, and we weren't long back at the Phantasma Hotel suite that there was a knock on the door. Fearing the worst, I crossed to answer. I knew it would not be Raoul; he was, as to my knowledge, at the hotel bar. And of course, my husband would not have knocked. He would most likely just barge in thoughtlessly, as had been his way here. Apparently he had a lack of care for just about everything in the park. There was only one other person I expected at this time of day, and having Gustave in the room behind me twisted my stomach into nervous knots.

So, of course, I was extremely surprised to see Meg Giry on the opposite side of my door, the blonde ringlets framing her face damp, completely bare of any stage makeup I was expecting.

"Christine," she said brightly, stepping past me into the room without an invitation. "Wow, you've got yourselves set up nicely here, haven't you? Hello Gustave," she winked at my son as I closed the door, and Gustave did nothing but give her a wary look before turning his head back to the manuscript paper on the counter before him, mumbling a small good morning.

"What calls for a visit this morning?" I asked, trying to sound pleasantly surprised, rather than surprised alone.

"I just thought I'd come and see how my best friend's holding up." she smiled sweetly, but there was something else hidden behind her eyes. "And I wanted to apologise for my friends' behaviour yesterday. They can be a little too welcoming at times."

I sighed and lowered my eyes to my hands. "No trouble at all, Meg. I understand these things."

Her lips still stretched, seeming worried and as though she was deep in thought, and she took a seat at the counter. "A cup of tea would be lovely."

I readied two cups, gently nudging Gustave to have him go to his own room and set one down in front of her, taking a seat so I was able to start a conversation.

"So you've decided to stay and sing at the season's final show?"

I paused, wondered if Raoul had shown his distaste on the subject the day before. "Well, we really do need the money, Meg. And I doubt it will hurt anybody in the long run. This was just planned to be a holiday for Gustave's birthday, after all."

"Oh, wonderful!" Meg gushed. "How old is he turning?"

"He _has_ turned ten," I said softly, taking a small sip of tea to avoid looking at her.

"So soon into your marriage, Christine. You and Raoul must have had no time to yourselves."

"We've done just fine, thank you, Meg." I wished to be off the subject immediately, and her questions seemed only to revolve around my personal life. I could not imagine what could come out of this should she press into the subject.

"Well, I've been performing five shows daily for years now. Have you seen my posters?" she grinned happily. "There's not a day goes by that I don't have to put up with fans. Men, mostly... But what of your performances? I hadn't heard any news about operas you'd starred in."

"No, I haven't been performing in operas. Just concerts. I'm mostly dedicated to being a mother now."

"Oh," there was something in her expression that brightened slightly, then her eyes slipped from mine to rest on the table. "I hope you haven't been too lonely, Christine. I wish I'd thought of you there in that big house all by yourself before I was dragged on this crazy ride..." her eyes glazed over for a moment, and her eyebrows began to pull themselves closer together, making her seem like a hurt puppy.

"Actually, I've made some really good friends since my marriage. There's a woman, close to my age, who I see most weeks. Clara. Our families are close. She and her husband have two daughters."

"That sounds nice," she murmured quietly before her confidence suddenly snapped back into place and she looked back to me. "But what of Monsieur le Vicomte? Unfortunately _that_ news couldn't stay completely out of our sights."

I didn't comment, aggravated that she felt the need to continue. "Is it true you're completely in debt? Is that why you're here? Would you have been able to get by without the money _he's_ promised you? I'm honestly at a loss to what could have happened to have your marriage turn to such a low, Christine! You know, I only just saw Raoul. At the bar, downstairs. It's a little early, isn't it? Or did he not come home last night?"

"With all due respect, Meg," I smiled as best I could and stood from my seat, pulling her unfinished tea from in front of her. "I have a lot to do today, and I would like to get started."

"Of course," she seemed a strange mixture of smug and excitement as she rose from her seat and adjusted her skirts. "I should be getting back to the concert hall. Performing so much does require a lot of rehearsals." she laughed, and followed as I walked her to the door. "I'll see you soon. We should catch up for coffee!"

"Yes," I said quickly. "When I have time. Goodbye, Meg."

"I'll see you later, Christine!" her words were slightly cut-off as I closed the door and turned, running my hands through my hair, back to the kitchen. I looked through the cupboards, wondering what I could make for dinner. Raoul and I hadn't had a real conversation since he'd been told about who had brought us here, and I was determined to make things better. Actually, I had hardly _seen _him. The conversation I'd had with Gustave that morning was still fresh in my mind, and I wished more than anything for the three of us to start acting like a proper family should. Especially here, where we would be seen. I would not have Erik telling me I was living life how I should not be, though my heart agreed with him, and I would not have Meg assuming more than I was able to admit. I simply did not want her to know everything about my personal life anymore.

There wasn't much left in the cupboards. I knew I could ask at the front desk for more to be brought to my room, but I would prefer to do it myself; leave the suite, have time on my own and clear my mind. I yawned widely and decided to rest first. Gustave wasn't the only one who had not much sleep the night before.

When I woke the sun was drooping in the sky. I straightened my dress and laced my boots quickly, so as not to be home after dark. Phantasma, though wonderful, was still strange and new to me and I did not want to be lost. Or find myself in unwelcome company.

There were markets not far from the hotel. I gathered what we would need for a quick dinner, then lingered for as long as I could without seeming suspicious, enjoying my time away from the mess I found myself in. Here no one looked at me. No one knew who I was. And I was certainly_ not _something to be looked at in such a place! Out of all of the people around me, perhaps half made up the population of the freaks in Phantasma. This place was more than a stay for entertainment - it provided a sanctuary for those who were lost elsewhere in the world. Instead of scaring or amusing me like I knew it did my husband, it comforted me in a way. I could not help but feel a small amount of pride that came with the thoughts of Erik accomplishing this; giving these people a home they could feel safe in; giving himself a home he could control, be a proper part of.

I was surprised to see Raoul sitting at the counter when I returned home, bags in my arms. I struggled with closing the door behind me, but he did not turn or offer to help. I did not have to ask why; there was a small glass in his right hand, and his hair and dress was so sloppy I would have been appalled if I hadn't known the truth.

I put the bags gently on the counter and made to straighten his cravat in passing, but his hand caught my wrist and held me, not allowing me to walk into the kitchen.

When he spoke, his voice was low and full of a dangerous tone I knew only too well. "Where have you been?"


	30. Chapter 30

**I hope everyone's having a wonderful Easter!**

* * *

"Where have you been?"

I tried my best to smile, but his hand tightened around my wrist and ended the attempt in a pained gasp. "Raoul, I just went to get some things for dinner. See, I brought bags home."

"When was it that you left, Christine?" he asked, eyeing the bags unsteadily. "I've been waiting an awful long time for you to bring home _this_."

"I was not gone for long," I pulled my wrist out of his reach and opened the cupboard to store the things I'd purchased. Without turning around, I spoke sternly. "You should go and clean yourself up, Raoul. I'll have dinner ready when you're presentable."

Usually I wouldn't be so upfront to my husband, but Meg's words from earlier were still fresh in my mind and seeing Raoul like this just embarrassed me. Had he spent a full day away from that bar yet? This trip was about starting fresh; making enough money to begin again as a closer family, and he was still resorting to his old ways. I sighed at the thoughts of our family slowly parting further and further. Things would definitely not be easier after this trip...

"You seem defensive." he murmured quietly. "Did you go and see _him?"_

Apparently alcohol wasn't enough to rid my husband of the reminder that Erik was here... "No, Raoul, I have not seen _him_ today. Now, please. I don't want you like this when we have dinner. You'll only upset Gustave."

"Gustave..." he breathed. I finally turned, frowning up at the man before me. There had been something in the way he'd said our son's name that I hadn't understood. He looked slowly toward Gustave's closed bedroom door, then back to me, an unattractive smirk on his face. It made him look a little insane, and I casually eased my way out from between him and the counter pressing into my back.

"Unlike you, Christine, I did happen to see that monster today."

The breath in my lungs left my lips in a second, and I did my best to keep my eyes from my husband, studying the bowl of fruit on the dining counter. I couldn't say anything; where was Raoul going with this? How were they both still _alive_ after their last meeting?

"He had some very interesting information for me."

My heart began racing, and I scolded myself. Erik would never say anything so stupid to put me in a dangerous situation with Raoul purposefully...

I opened my mouth to respond, still unable to find words, and his hand grabbed my upper arm quickly, turning me to face him. I cried out quietly at the violent gesture and pushed my hand against his chest, trying my hardest to put distance between us as his eyes blazed down at me. I did not want to be with Raoul when he was acting like this again. I knew what this could lead to, and the thoughts of it made me want to be sick.

"He thinks you were...with him. Before our wedding."

All I could do was look up at him, my mouth opened, ready to say something, my head a complete mess, my lower lip trembling as it sought words to make this better. I couldn't find any. I couldn't deny my actions. I could see it in his eyes; he already believed the truth.

"Is that true, Christine?"

"Raoul, you're hurting me." I gasped, my fingers curling around his and attempting to pry them away from my bruising skin.

He cursed rather loudly and pushed me away from him. I fell into the counter and straightened myself immediately, walking from the kitchen, but he followed closely behind me. "Tell me you didn't go along with it, Christine!" he begged angrily. "Tell me it wasn't your idea."

"It was ten years ago, Raoul." I reminded him, my voice strained as I struggled not to shout back at him. I would not have Gustave hearing us argue; he would only come to my aid and make things worse. I didn't want him around his father when Raoul was in such an unpredictable state. "It doesn't mean anything now." I joined him slowly, cautiously, and put my hand gently to his cheek, trying to calm him down. "I've been with you for ten years. I chose you."

He was cool for a moment, his lips twisting thoughtfully, and then he looked away from me. "I thought the worst. Like the fool I am."

I sighed in relief and motioned for him to take a seat, but he pushed my arm away and took a step back from me. "I assumed the worst! Our wedding night...our honeymoon." he shook his head at me desperately. "I knew something was wrong. I could tell you didn't want to talk about it, but I _knew_ something was wrong..." he groaned and put his face in his hands, his feet moving quickly around the carpet. "I thought someone had taken advantage of you, and _that _was why...but no, it is...I never thought _that monster_ had -" he groaned and stopped pacing, pointing his finger at me threateningly. "If you had had the decency to tell me...I was so angry, Christine. I thought, before I came back into your life, someone had -" he trailed off and his fingers curled into a fist.

It was a long time before he spoke again, and I was unable to move…unable to conceive a coherent thought. "But it wasn't the fact that I was evoking horrifying memories, was it? It was that you doubted I could live up to ones you cherished."

All I could do was manage a small shrug with a shake of my head, my mouth still hanging open. "I don't know what to say, Raoul."

"Tell me I'm wrong!" he begged desperately, walking toward me again. "Tell me _I'm_ the one you've desired all this time!" his hands traced my figure, and I refused to show the disgust I felt at his drunken form. How could Erik have told him this?!

"Raoul, _you're _the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with." I said reasonably, catching his hands and holding them tightly. "We have a life together. One we need to work on to get it back to the way things are supposed to be, but we can do it. We have a family."

The word family had his head snapping up once more, and his hands began to shake in my grasp. "Gustave,"

_Oh, no,_

"Gustave," he growled our son's name, and his hands broke out of the cage of my fingers to hold both of my wrists, gaining complete power over me. "Ten years, Christine." he spoke through gritted teeth, and I felt tears burn behind my eyes from pain, fear and sorrow. I was so ashamed. I didn't know how to collect the pieces of our broken lives after this.

"I was stupid enough to believe, for ten years, that bastard was mine." I knew he didn't mean his words; Raoul loved Gustave. Still, all I could do was sob. Erik had truly torn my family apart now, and I would never forgive him.

"Did _he_ tell you all of these things? Seek you out on purpose to make sure you knew?" I wailed, tears now streaming down my face. He shook his head furiously.

"He did not need to tell me. All he did was open my eyes." he pulled my arms up quickly and I gasped, unable to keep from taking another step toward him. "I took care of that child as if he were my own, Christine! I should have known..._look _at him. And his music," he spat. "Something could not have come from humans such as myself and you. You must have been praying every God damn night that he wouldn't look like that _thing."_

"I would have loved him either way." I sobbed, struggling to break away from him. "It's _you_ who can't see past appearances."

"And a right shame, too." he let go of me, and I threw my hands over and over again against his chest. "I would have been able to see a _whore_ where you stood." his hand came out of nowhere, hitting me squarely in the face and I lost my footing and stumbled, falling to the floor at the base of the long lounge, immediately aching from almost everywhere in my body. My heart broke at his words, and I knew I would never be able to improve things in our marriage now. What was to happen between us?

Those thoughts left my mind as I looked up and saw my son standing on the side of the room, his eyes wide, his expression blank. He'd heard.

"Mother, you're bleeding -"

"To _bed, _Gustave." Raoul snapped, raising his hand in warning to my son, who flinched, but did nothing more than take one step toward his room. "Your mother and I are doing the same."

"No," I shook my head, desperate for him to see what he was doing was wrong, crawling pathetically away from him as best I could against the lounge, but I knew it was all in vain. I deserved whatever punishment he dealt me tonight. "Please, Raoul."

"You will shut your mouth, if you know what is good for you." he growled, hauling me to my feet by my right wrist. "Gustave, to your room, or I'll throw you in there myself."

"You'll do no such thing."

The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, filling the room like honey and I felt a loud sob escape my lips, my knees weakening. What position had I found myself in?

"You," Raoul breathed. I glanced up to see Erik and the largest of his three most trusted workers, Mr. Squelch, standing at the entrance of the suite, the door opened behind them, telling me they had just arrived. I hadn't heard the door open over my struggles. "Leave," he said, his voice trembling though I knew he was trying to be strong. "This does not concern you. This is between me and my family."

"But I thought you just about denounced them both as your own." Erik replied easily. "Or was it just the boy?"

"If you know what's wise you will turn and leave. Now."

"And if you knew, you idiotic prat, you would not let alcohol tempt you so. From what I just overheard during my casual walk by, you have blamed the Vicomtess purely for any failures in your marriage. I believe that not to be the case. Am I correct?"

Raoul's arms tightened around me, as if to show Erik I was his alone, and I closed my eyes, wishing this to be over. "You bastard. How dare you accuse me of being the cause when you're little slut -"

His figure against my own put up a violent struggle for a moment, his hands grasping greedily for my arms, and then the warmth of his body disappeared and I fell to the floor, not wanting to stand and be conscious for this. Not even wanting to open my eyes and see what was happening. No more than second passed, and I felt a set of cold hands press against my neck, checking my pulse, then pushing my hair away from my face as I rolled to my side and curled my legs against my chest.

"Just leave me. Please," I didn't know what else to say. I was so embarrassed. All I wanted was for my life to end, right there. In less than ten minutes all of the secrets of my life had been put out, into the open, as well as Erik seeing first-hand my husband's disgusting behaviour. Both things were enough to have me on the point of gagging on my tears.

"Mother," Gustave's quiet voice was the only thing to bring me out of my state, a minute later, and I finally opened my eyes, lifting my arms immediately to pull him against my chest. Erik, I saw, was standing close by, watching us quietly, but there was no sign of Mr. Squelch or my husband. I saw how close to our bedroom he'd dragged me and began trembling hysterically.

"Oh, Christine," he kneeled down beside myself and my son, who did not flinch into me as I'd expected him to.

"What did you do to my husband?"

"Let me look at your nose. It's still bleeding -"

"Where is he, Erik?" I asked, more sternly.

He sighed at my apparent lack of care for myself. "I promise he will not be hurt. He will just have some time to think about what he's done."

At any other time, I expect I would have laughed, but all I could do now was hold my son to me and sigh with relief. "Dinner," I said quickly. "I have to make dinner."

"Christine," he spoke like a guardian, and I was confused for a moment, looking toward him for answers as I got to my feet and he held my shoulders to steady me. "You will not be making dinner. Sit down."

}~*~{

Gustave did not say anything during dinner, or afterwards. I could not manage to find words myself. Instead, I took to wringing my still trembling hands in my lap as Erik silently took our dishes and cleaned them slowly, perhaps waiting for my say first. All three of us were lost as to what was to come next, and though the silence was not awkward for myself I knew, if I had been in the right state of mind, it would have been.

I don't know what, exactly, had landed me in such a shaken state; whether it was the close call with my husband, the thought of him being kept from me now, the knowledge that, at that very moment, my family's name risked being torn to shreds, or knowing Gustave was no longer ignorant about his blood. I expected it to be a mixture of all of them, though which left me the most traumatised, I had no idea.

Gustave eventually took to sitting at the piano, but never playing anything. From the corner of my eye I could see him sneaking glances at both Erik and myself, but neither of us acknowledged him back. When, after what seemed like eternity, the grandfather clock in the suite's master bedroom announced it was nine o'clock I pushed myself to my feet, suddenly highly aware my knees were shaking unsteadily and turning in a few confused circles.

"Bed, I should think." my voice came out in a choked whisper, but I simply could not care.

"Christine," Erik's murmur had me turning, desperate for an answer and I clutched the bench with my left hand, trying my hardest to make it seem like a casual gesture. He eyed my clenched fingers for a moment before studying me with calm eyes once more.

"I do not think you should stay here by yourself tonight."

"What do you propose I do?" I hissed hysterically. "Sleep on the floor of the lobby? Call help to our room for the night and raise suspicion about what happened here?"

"I'm sure the Girys could be of more than assistance." he replied evenly.

I hesitated; thoughts of what Meg had said disrupting my thoughts. My head shook without my agreeing to it and he raised his eyebrow, not asking for a question. "I suppose not."

"I cannot face Meg after tonight." I told myself quietly.

"Then, by all means, share my home. Just for tonight." he clarified. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I will leave when you are both comfortable and sleeping, but I will not have you taking care of yourselves after such a night's events."

"Erik," I sighed, looking toward Gustave, who immediately rose from the piano bench and took a few quick steps toward me.

"I don't feel safe, mother." his eyes were wide, and they flicked warily to Erik. "I know it's foolish of me to feel that way, but I was scared after..."

"That's okay, Gustave." I pulled him into my arms and kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair repetitively to comfort the both of us. I wondered if he was more frightened of Erik than of the aspect of being here alone, and his quiet voice answered my unspoken question.

"We should go with...Mister Y. He helped us."

Erik's pleased expression when I once again glanced up at him left me nodding once, and he gracefully glided out of the suite, leaving the door parted slightly behind him.

"Mother," I kneeled down to face my son, successfully putting myself some way below his growing frame and grasped his hands.

"Gustave, I don't expect you to do this for me. I know you're frightened by Mister Y. I was to begin with, as well. He can be overwhelming some times, and I completely understand if you wish to stay here tonight. Do not try to make things better for me by making them worse for yourself in turn."

"I am frightened by him," he agreed, his eyes resting on something out of my sight as he continued. "But at the same time, I want us with him for tonight. I feel he can protect us."

"This night has left you as shaken as it has left me, it seems." I mused, pushing back the hair that was beginning to hang in his eyes. "And for good reason, my dear. But you know you have nothing to fear; nothing for Mister Y to protect us from. They are just nerves, Gustave."

"I know that," he said quietly, looking down. "But my foolishness tells me to go with him. I want to meet him properly."

My lips pressed into a tight line, and I knew it was not just Gustave's frightened feeling of the night that were pushing him to say yes to Erik's proposal. He was curious of Raoul's words - perhaps not completely believing them yet, and wishing to seek out answers for himself.

"Very well," I squeezed his hands one last time and rose back to my feet. "Get your things. I don't think it will take long for him to find his way back to us."


	31. Chapter 31

_I want to thank everyone so, so much for all of the lovely reviews - each time I get a new one, you put a smile on my face. It's so wonderful to hear from you and know you're enjoying it!_

_I'm so sorry this wasn't up sooner - I didn't realise how long it had been since I'd last posted. I want to start updating more regularly; hopefully once a week or a bit sooner._

_I would love to continue to hear from you all!_

* * *

**Chapter 31:**

**Erik's POV**

Christine Daaé was asleep in my house. The thought alone made my heart race, and I sat at the piano bench and listened closely to the silent house, pleading for the sounds of her stirring which would bring her quicker to me.

She had still been trembling when she'd entered my home the night before, and I had wondered if the knowledge of where she now stood took some part in that. Surely it had. She and Gustave had stayed in the two unused guest bedrooms of my spacious, hardly known home, and I had heard them talking for a good couple of hours before Christine ventured to her own room and their voices slowly faded into the gently breathings of sleep. Their minds were, no doubt, brimming full of the events of the night they had just endured, and I kept out of their way to help them adjust, using the comfortable familiarity of each other.

Their nervousness had taken place in my own body, it seemed, when I thought too much of them. They had slept for hours now, while I had only a couple myself, tossing the entire time with the thought of them so close. I wondered when they would rise. Was Christine still an early riser? Or had years of being waited on left her forgetting the routine of the opera house?

Unable to help myself, I sat at the piano in the cosy drawing room, playing softly to begin with, so as not to wake them, then succumbing to the music, losing myself as I had so many times before. It was not until the creak of an uneven floor board not a foot away from myself sounded that I stopped and rose to my feet in one fluid motion.

"I'm sorry," Gustave's eyes were wide, though seemed tired, and I sighed and took my place once more, still facing him curiously. It had been a long time since someone had caught me unaware, and I was shocked by his sudden appearance.

"Good morning, Gustave."

His eyes left my own to look at the piano, an expression I couldn't read taking his face. "Your music is beautiful."

"Thank you,"

"I suppose that makes sense..."

I did not know what to say to that. I watched him closely for a long moment, and he eventually looked up at me expectantly. I frowned a little. Was I supposed to say something else? Give him breakfast, perhaps? Would he want it this early in the morning? Or was he supposed to dress first? ...Miss Fleck and Doctor Gangle had been very punctual with their bags last night, so all of their things were here...

"I'm sorry for screaming at you the other day."

The comment took me by surprise, and I leaned back in my seat. "It is understandable. I frighten you."

"Yes," he said honestly. His voice was strong, as if he were trying to prove a point, but he did not take a step away from me or show he was, indeed, frightened. "But I _am_ sorry."

"I accept your apology."

"Mother will sleep for a while yet." He informed me, his eyes once again moving to the piano. It took me a moment to respond, the whole while wondering uncomfortably if I should offer.

"Perhaps you would like to play while we wait?"

}~*~{

**Christine's POV**

The first thing I realised when I woke in the morning was that I had the slight throbbing of a headache in my right temple. It did not take more than a second for me to remember the events of the night previous and I sighed, longing just to fall back to sleep and wake to find everything in a much easier state. Then I heard the music.

It was wonderful, drawing me to the source, convincing me it was better to stay awake just to hear the sheer delight of it. I had heard such things before, but never seemed to grow accustomed to it. What did strike me after a moment, however, was that there just seemed to be _too much_ music. How many hands were playing?

I pushed myself to lean against my arm in the wide bed, rubbing my stubborn eyes. I could not remember much of last night, with the shaken state my mind had been in. I opened my eyes slowly, and was met with the sight of...stars? Perhaps this was Heaven, and that unearthly sound was to greet me?

They surrounded me; gold and glowing, and seeming to hover in mid-air in the dark space. I frowned, completely confused and leaned forward to examine them more closely.

They were not stars, after all, but small lights which resembled those which lit up Erik's park at night. They were small enough to fit on my fingertips, and I shook my head at the wonder of it all. When paired with the billowy cream blankets I found myself rested under, it truly looked as though I was sleeping amoung clouds in the night sky.

I could not remember this scene from last night, but I supposed I was just too tired to take note of any of my surroundings when I'd left my son and fallen asleep on my own. Surely I would have noticed _something_ to warn me that I would be waking to such an unbelievable surprise.

And surely I would have noticed something like a red rose, secured on the stem by a black ribbon, lying on the pillow beside the one I had used...

The music once again took over my thoughts and I dreamily escaped my sky world and wandered out of the room, down a short hall, and ended in the living room.

The sight left me breathless, and I put my hand to my chest, willing myself to hold back tears. Their backs were to me, but I doubted either was unaware of my presence. Or perhaps they were? I'd known both of them to sense me standing behind them, even if I'd been sure to be perfectly quiet in the past, but I also knew both of them got so caught up in their music there were times when they would be completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

I was unable to take my eyes away from them, unable to keep from smiling, as if the world somehow made sense again. Their arms moved in unison, their fingers following the same tricky pattern as they threw melodies together that sounded so wonderful, so haunting.

When they'd finished they sat in silence and I cleared my throat from where I stood, gaining their attention at once.

"Mother," Gustave murmured, standing from the stool. Erik just watched me, a thoughtful look in his eye as I embraced my son and kissed his forehead before managing my most convincing smile, making it seem as though I weren't so affected by the scene I'd just witnessed.

"What have you two found to bond over, hm?" I asked with a small laugh, looking back to Erik slowly, who stood and glided into the kitchen to hover over the stove.

"Mister Y was teaching me more music." Gustave told me excitedly, his voice hushed, though I knew Erik would have no trouble hearing him. "Did you like it, mother?"

"It was absolutely beautiful, my dear."

"Tea?" Erik's voice spoke to me for the first time that morning and I tore my eyes from my son to answer politely.

"Please,"

I sat at the small coffee table in the middle of the room and thanked Erik once he had brought our tea to the table, a mug of hot milk for Gustave, who was served at the piano where he was now playing his own music on the opposite side of the room. Erik watched him with a curious expression before finally looking back to me and reaching into his pocket to retrieve a hankerchief.

"Your nose continued to bleed during the night."

"Oh," I accepted the hankerchief and dabbed at my nose, keeping my head down with the memory of our arrival at his home the night before.

_"It has not been used much," he admitted as he opened the door for us and set our bags down at the entrance. "But it is comfortable. Large enough for us all to have our own space."_

_"Thank you, Erik," I had sniffed, my eyes burning from tears of embarrassment, anger and fright, my hands still shaking. Gustave had taken his bags and entered the room Erik pointed out for him, leaving us both in the entry foyer._

_"Allow me to look at your nose." He'd said gently, his hands hardly touching me as they tilted my face to his own and he inspected me closely. The fingers of his left hand had risen and pressed against my face gently, prodding until I winced away from him automatically, immediately worried I had frightened him off._

_"It is not broken," he'd assured me, taking my bags up once more. "But perhaps you should clean it off. The bleeding has stopped for the time being."_

"You don't think there's anything wrong,"

"It will heal," he said, just as gently as he had the night before as he raised his mug to his lips, his eyes once again sliding to where my son sat. _Our _son.

"Erik," I murmured. I knew he was listening, though he did not look at me. "I want to make sure you know how truly grateful I am that you would take us in like this. You're right; I wouldn't have been able to take care of myself _or_ Gustave last night."

"It was the least I could do,"

"But I am in the right state of mind now," I insisted somewhat firmly. "Gustave and I will be returning to our suite. I believe that is best. And, of course, I have to assume my husband will be there, too."

"That is quite an assumption." He muttered, his eyes now boring into my own, the amber in them somewhat hypnotic, though I'd seen this look so many times in the last ten years I felt myself growing somewhat immune. "Seeing as his presence has not been known in the suite much at all since your arrival."

"Gustave," I said immediately, turning around to face my son, who paused and watched me with wide eyes. "Go and wash your face. And then make sure your bags are packed."

"But I thought we were staying -"

"Now,"

He stood from the bench without another question, sensing the authoritive tone I rarely used with him in my voice before leaving the room. He knew I wanted him out of the way for this conversation.

"You had no right to tell Raoul what you did." I began quietly, not wanting my son to overhear. "The truth about Gustave,"

"I did not tell him." He reminded me. "I simply pointed out what should have been obvious. You would think, after ten years, a man would know his own blood."

"After ten years," I repeated. "You would think, with the knowledge that for _ten years_ of my life I have hidden my secrets as best I could - _saved_ my son from the slander of society -" I shook my head, dumbfounded. "You would think a genius such as yourself would be aware of the damage you could cause with a few careless words."

"Am I not to be accepted in this at all, then?" He asked, his voice getting louder as he leaned toward me. "Was he not mine from the very beginning? Of course, I helped in his creation, but living in that big house, being so beautiful; he was the Vicomte's from the beginning, no?"

"You left me, Erik." I said slowly, pausing between each word. I saw pain flash through his eyes and I drank the rest of my tea before standing. "I do now know how many times I must remind you of that."

"Nor do I, Vicomtesse." He sneered. "Seeing as you have forgiven me for such actions more than once now, and you are still using the excuse against me."

I lowered my eyes to the carpet beneath my feet, stopping in my tracks, and he continued. "I am not going to hold you captive here, Christine. You are free to do as you choose; go back to that fop, if you feel you must. But remember what he is capable of. What he now knows. Will he treat you the same way? Do you _want _him to treat you the same way? And what of Gustave? How is he to be looked upon by your husband now?"

I sighed, my shoulders dropping forward with each word he spoke. He'd caught me. "Christine," he sighed. "You know I would take care of you. Winter is on its way. My park is not full in winter. I will be here, alone. Would you rather return to him; constantly be on your guard? Or stay with me, with the knowledge that I will always do my best to keep you safe?"

"You have been foolish on such things in the past, Erik."

"But you know I have changed."

"But he is my husband." I said simply. He did not say anything in return, so I spun to face him, my eyes pained as I watched him, daring him, _wishing for him,_ to say something clever that could ease my mind on this subject. "He is my husband..." I said more slowly.

We watched each other for a long moment. I was not oblivious to his eyes. They were begging me, tearing me up on the inside. I'd seen them like this before. I'd seen them like this almost eleven years ago, as he begged me to make a choice. I had made the wrong choice. So had he.

"Christine," he whispered, and I closed my eyes at the sound. "Today," he begged quietly. "Just today." My eyes fluttered open, and I questioned him silently. "Be with me today. Let me show you I've changed. Let me prove it to you."

"But Raoul -"

"He is safe. He has been released. He is, I do not doubt, finding comfort in the Phantasma bar. He has been taught a lesson. He knows what he did to you was wrong now. But what if he does not learn?" He sighed. "Please, Christine," he stood from the table and came to tower over me, only inches away. "You do not know how I felt this morning, seeing Gustave and myself playing as we were. Realising there is someone else in the world who understands."

He took my hand, squeezing my fingers, but not to the point that the action was uncomfortable. "There have been two things in the world that have defined me from everyone else. Two things no one else has been able to look past - to understand." he raised my hand to his face, pressing it against his mask. _"This, _Christine. But _you_ - _you_ have been able to! Only you," he closed his eyes and pressed my hand more firmly against his hidden cheek. "And now, after ten years, you have still been able to look upon me without turning. Without screaming..." he opened his eyes again and lowered my hand, still keeping it in the grasp of both of his own.

"Gustave cannot understand this as you can." He murmured. "But music, the one other thing that has distanced me from the rest of the world...I thought I was a rarity. Though I cherished the way I've played, I have longed to be able to share such a gift with somebody. To have them _understand_ - to listen to me while I know they truly wish to hear what I am saying. Gustave..." he shook his head and lowered his face, and I wondered if the choked sounds in his beautiful voice were being caused by tears. "Without the both of you, no one understands. I am alone."

"Erik," my hands wound their way around his shoulder without my consent and I pulled myself against his thin chest, turning my face into the bones of his shoulder. "Today," I repeated. I felt his hands shaking as they found my back, holding me to his form in disbelief.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32:**

Erik wasted no time upon hearing I would give him this chance. He requested I dress for a busy day, and I immediately felt embarrassed at my standing in the middle of his home in my nightgown and robe. Rather than make my way straight to my bedroom, I went to the one Gustave had been staying in, closing the door securely behind me before turning to face him.

"Father always told me to write with my right hand."

The statement had me frowning, and I shook my head to indicate I did not understand. Gustave's eyes were so full of expression I was having a hard time reading them. They were much too deep for a child of ten years to hold.

"He used to squeeze my fingers so tight during lessons that I would have no choice but to use it." Still, I was silent, waiting for him to continue. Those dark eyes peered up at me then, begging me to see what he was feeling. "But _he_ was writing on that score this morning, mother. With his left hand."

"It should not matter what hand you write with, Gustave. Your father...just likes to be set in his ways." My lips twisted with the words _your father_, and I knew Gustave noticed, though he did not say anything.

"What are we doing now, mother?"

I sighed and looked at his open suitcase on the floor. We'd left the suite in a rush last night, and I felt completely foolish. "I am going to spend the day with Mister Y. There are things we must discuss."

"And I?"

I was lost for an answer, but told him not to worry. As soon as I'd let him know we would not immediately be returning to Raoul his shoulders had straightened, which bothered me a little. A boy should not feel so disconnected to a man he'd been raised to believe was his father.

I dressed in an elaborate turquoise number, picking up a matching hat and sat down on the foot of my bed to pin my hair. The fact that there were no mirrors in Erik's home had not passed me, and I found it difficult to be sure of my appearance, but it would have to do. I did not pin all of my hair, just holding it off my face, similar to how I used to wear it when I'd been a ballerina at the opera house. There were butterflies in my stomach which made me want to look beautiful, and I scolded myself for that. Still, I hadn't felt the need to charm anyone in such a long time...

Upon leaving my room I heard voices talking casually. I was confused. Did Erik have company? I softened my footsteps to hear more clearly and recognised a female's voice. I will not ever admit to anyone that I felt a rush of jealousy at that moment. It had taken Erik more than ten years to speak to me comfortably, but here he was conversing with a woman who had so forwardly come to his home. Was there something he hadn't told me?

I marched my way to the living room, which in turn led to the entrance foyer, and raised my eyebrows at the sight of the small woman with the bird-like face I had met only days before.

"Miss Fleck,"

"Hello, Christine," she chirped with a warm smile. I frowned. She didn't appear to be at all surprised, or even appalled, to find me in her boss' home this early in the morning. "You're looking well."

"Miss Fleck will be watching over Gustave for the day." Erik said, seeming quite pleased with himself. At that moment the boy in question stepped into our sights, eyeing both Erik and Fleck silently. "Will that be all right, Gustave?"

My son nodded silently, and though I knew he was feeling torn between where his feelings rested, I could still see the hint of fear in his eyes while he looked at Erik.

"Wonderful," Erik turned to Miss Fleck and ushered her inside. "I am sure you two will get along famously. We shall be back shortly. Enjoy yourselves." I had to resist laughing at his cheery tone, so unused to it, but followed him out of his home after a quick kiss to Gustave's forehead and watched as he pulled the door closed behind him.

"Do not look so hesitant, Christine. Fleck can be trusted." He murmured, taking his place beside me and tilting his head to the side.

I made the first move, winding my arm through his own, and he began leading me through his park, only coming to a stop when we were seated in the center of a small cafe, a small plate of sandwiches in between us that went untouched.

"I feel there is no reason to keep from being forward between us."

"Is that so?" I looked at him through questioning eyes, and his ice cold fingers lifted my hand from the table before me to hold it gently.

"Today, I will show you just how I would be if you were to stay with me."

"Erik -"

"Let us begin again," he interrupted. "From this moment, just for today, you are not a married woman. We will forget our past, and who we used to be, and we will concentrate on who we are now. So," he made a show of lifting my hand to press a gently kiss against my knuckles. "It is nice to meet you, Madame. My name is Erik."

I sighed and smirked the tiniest of amounts. He was trying so hard, and it was honestly charming. "Christine Daaé," I don't know why I'd said my maiden name; I was not going to agree to acting as though I was not married.

"Daaé," he repeated. "Such a lovely name." He said it in Swedish, and as he gazed at me intently I began to feel the worry holding me seep away. His eyes brought me to a more content state, and I did not mind slipping into character alongside him and answering in my own abandoned tongue.

"What did you have planned for our day?"

}~*~{

After a day of wandering around Phantasma, Erik pointing out his favourite places in the huge park, we found ourselves in that cozy little room with the piano where I had first seen him after our long separation. Here, I immediately felt more comfortable. All day I had been more distant than I would have liked, cautious in the eyes of the public, my own eyes always flitting from face to face, wary that my husband would see me out with another man.

But here...we were alone. Apparently my new sense of familiarity didn't go missed by Erik, either.

"Remember that night, Christine?" He asked in a whisper. "We were the only two people in the world that night. Did you feel that, too?" I was unable to say anything, but felt myself nod quickly. "We are alone here too, Christine. There is no one else in the world when we are down here. No one that will ever be able to find us. It was fate that led you here to me; you have been the first and last to do so." He came closer to me as he spoke, and I closed my eyes when he was standing right behind me, his voice hypnotic in my right ear.

"Do you know of anything else but me at this moment, Christine?"

I shook my head desperately, and could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he continued. "We are the only two people in the world." I felt his grasp tighten on my wrist and followed dumbly as he gently pulled me to the bench in front of the piano, sitting myself down before he took his place next to me, both of us facing away from the beautiful instrument. "Tell me about Gustave." He pleaded quietly.

I looked up to him slowly, my eyebrows reaching for each other at the pathetic tone now present in his voice. He'd missed so much...

"He's manipulative," I began with a small smirk. "And he speaks to people above him as if he has the higher power." Now Erik laughed knowingly, and I continued. "He always knew how to stand up to Raoul. I don't think Raoul ever would have hurt him, of course, but he voiced his opinions smartly anyhow. He watched out for me."

"And his music?"

"Raoul didn't know he played for years. He would spend hours at the piano while we were home alone. He picked things up so quickly; just from hearing them once at a concert."

"He had you to raise him with music from an early age. I'm grateful he had a musician to look up to."

"Erik..." I knew this was going to be difficult to tell him, seeing as he had worked so hard with my voice and I had just about thrown all of that hard work away, but I pressed on nonetheless. "Gustave never heard me sing. Not until he was four years old. He had no idea who I was."

"Christine..." the sigh was full of sadness, and it broke my heart.

I wringed my hands in my lap and lowered my face to stare at my boots. "I'd always dreamed of singing to my baby, Erik. Singing them to sleep...it was just how I pictured my life when I was younger. I never thought about what situation I would be in, or if I would have money, or be struggling, but I knew for sure I would sing for my child. I didn't even get to take part in that."

"You are young, Christine. A woman in her twenties should not be giving up on such dreams."

"A woman in her twenties who has spent ten years with her husband and has been unable to have more children _should_, however."

"That is obviously not your fault!" He growled. I lifted my chin, still looking away from him, deciding to change the subject once more.

"Gustave has a terrible temper. He is always gentle with me, but if he feels I am being unjust he will scream and break things and ignore me until he is feeling up to forgiving me. He likes to confuse people he does not like, and he finds it funny to hide Raoul's things, though he doesn't know I'm aware of that. He's very bright. He's already bilingual, and learning more languages still, and his tutors finished year-long courses with him within a matter of months."

"A very talented boy."

"Before he was able to walk I would find him building things with simple wooden blocks. He recreated the church we go to one morning, and Raoul knocked it down before he could finish. There was always something about Gustave's intelligence that frightened him..." I saw Erik's fingers curl on his leg and turned to give him a puzzled look. "What's the matter?"

"A child should not have to have a parent so confronted by their intelligence. At least Gustave had _one _parent who..." he trailed off, standing from the bench and muttering to himself quietly as he lit a candle that was not needed. I was silent; I had the feeling we were not speaking about Gustave now. Mentally scolding myself for complaining so constantly about the life I'd lived while Erik's had so obviously been worse than I could ever possibly imagine, I rose from my place and came to stand behind him, studying the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.

His shoulders were built broadly, but there was no flesh to fill them out. He had the body of a hard laborer, but looked much too skinny to accomplish such tasks. I longed to reach out my arms and wrap them around him, hold myself to him and promise him I would always be there for him. He was lost, as was I. And it was too late to find ourselves together now.

I leaned forward to rest my forehead against his back, grateful when he did not move away. I expected him to stiffen, but, on the contrary, felt his shoulders relax and a content sigh leave his lips.

"We should be getting back," he said softly, perhaps thinking my actions were reminding him I was still here and felt the need to return to the real world.

"I just want another moment down here." I mumbled. "Just another moment of the two of us being the only ones." I raised my hand to rest against his shoulder blade and chewed on my lip somewhat nervously. "Erik, would you hold me for just a moment?"

Somehow he'd turned and had me in his arms before I could realise he'd even moved. That confident air about him which had sprung from his time in Coney Island was back now, and his hands pressed me into his chest without complaint, though I still felt a slight trembling through them. My own fingers trembled as I reached up to rest them against the side of his face, tracing from his temple to his jaw gently, my eyes wide, begging the answer to a question neither of us could hear as he watched me under heavy lids.

My body begged me never to stop touching him, to keep my hand pressed against his face, to remove the mask that covered the other side. The space between his neck and his shoulder looked especially inviting, and my toes almost rose of their own accord so I would be able to bury my face in that place, but I kept my feet firmly on the ground. I would not be so forward today, though I knew it was ridiculous to keep formalities between us after what we'd shared in the past. But there were always new days, and with new days came more confidence. _Next time,_ I promised myself. _Next time you can continue to touch him._

"Will there be another day when it is just the two of us, Erik?"

}~*~{

It was well past noon when we arrived back at Erik's home. I had full intentions to thank him for the wonderful day I was sure I would never be able to forget and make my way back to the suite with Gustave, and so I did not mention one word about staying.

Fleck was sitting beside Gustave on the piano bench when we entered the house, swaying slightly as he played a tune I had heard many times; one of his favourites. Erik took my coat without a word, and I saw from the corner of my eye that he was watching our son intently. There was something in his eyes I had only seen since coming to America, and it suddenly clicked in my head that it was one of pride. He appeared to be in awe, as well, to some extent.

When the song ended, Fleck clapped her hands enthusiastically and turned quickly to the sound of Erik clearing his throat, causing her to leap from the bench and give her boss a polite curtsey.

"Mister Y,"

There was a professional sound to Erik's voice when he spoke. "I trust you didn't have any trouble today, Miss Fleck?"

"None at all, Sir. I was very happy to be of assistance. And your day? Did it go well?"

"Quite well," he agreed. "Thank you for your help."

"If that's all you need of me..."

"I believe that should suffice for today."

Fleck left only with a small goodbye to me, and I smiled warmly in return before finally directing my eyes to Gustave, who was watching both of us with an unreadable expression, as if studying us.

"Gustave, are your things packed? If we leave now we will be able to make it back to the hotel before night."

"Yes, mother," his eyes were directed to the floor as he stood and began to trudge slowly to the room he had slept in, his shoulders hunched ungracefully.

Erik spoke before he could take more than two steps. "I fail to see reason in your returning to the hotel tonight."

I sighed, irritated at how difficult he could be. I did not want him raising Gustave's hopes when what he was suggesting was obviously the wrong thing to do. "Erik, please. You know we cannot stay here with you. Imagine what people will say! And I am perfectly able to return to the hotel now. You know very well I am past the unreasonable state I was in last night."

"I never suggested you staying here while I resided here myself," he replied calmly. "It is not often I use this home. Take it for your own for the time being. It is comfortable, no? I am sure you will be able to rest easily here. It is close to whatever you will need in the park, and Gustave will be able to play music without it bothering anyone too close."

"No, I would much rather return to the suite, thank you." I argued. "I'm sure Raoul will be worried about us after all this time." Gustave muttered something under his breath, and though I was unable to hear it, I saw Erik smirk in an accomplished sort of way, telling me perhaps I did not want to know what he had said.

"The boy is completely right,"

"What -"

"You will stay here, if not just for tonight. It will save you the trouble of getting your belongings there by yourself. I will have my workers return your things to your room when you are truly ready."

"I _am_ ready -"

"I must go. Business calls." He began to move gracefully toward the door and turned at the edge of the entry foyer, giving me a slight bow. He held out his hand, curling his fingers as if around an invisible rope and brought it ever so closer to himself. As he did, I felt my feet move beneath me until I was standing not a foot from him. He opened his hand and it took me a moment to realise I had raised my own to place in his grasp. "Thank you for a wonderful day, Madame. I will anxiously await our next."

He was gone before I could say anything, and I watched the closed door until Gustave broke me from my trance.

"It is a nice house, mother."

"Yes," I agreed automatically. I shook my head to try to gather my thoughts and turned to find him also staring after my employer.

"I definitely think we should stay here just a little while longer, if Mister Y insists. We wouldn't want to make him upset."

I frowned. I was puzzled about my son's thoughts toward the man, and I was sure he was himself, as well. I kneeled before him and took his hands into my own, and it was only then that he looked at me.

"Do you still fear him, my dear?" He nodded truthfully. "Then why do you wish to stay here so badly?"

"I enjoy being here with you." He told me, raising his hand to trace the shape of my nose. "You are different here, mother. You do not always wait for something. You don't watch out."

His words had me speechless. Did I really appear to be so on my guard while living with Raoul? I hadn't noticed...but now that I thought about it, since waking this morning I'd felt something lift off my shoulders...as if being inside these walls kept out the feeling that I had to be cautious of what I did or said. And this was very silly, because inside these walls I had been under the gaze of a murderer. But Gustave did not need to know this.

A knock at the door had both of us jumping. I got to my feet, my heart at a faster pace than was necessary and crossed to the door, wishing I could catch a glimpse of whoever was on the other side before pulling it open.

The familiar sight of blonde curls calmed me somewhat, and I managed a small smile despite the situation my once best friend had found me in. "Meg,"

"Christine," she sighed, obviously in relief. "I was hoping I'd find you here. Mother told me about this place a while ago, and I just hoped Erik wouldn't answer the door."

"What's wrong?"

"I met Monsieur le Vicomte...in the bar, again." She muttered, crossing her arms to keep out the chill descending in the air. "He seemed to be a little worried about you. He wants to see you tomorrow."

"And you told him you would find me?"

"He seemed pretty desperate." She said uneasily, looking over her shoulder at the less and less people making their way across the park. "Look, Christine, I'm in a bit of a hurry. He just wants to speak to you. He said he would take you to breakfast. Will I be able to tell him you'll meet him at the hotel at eight tomorrow?"

I hesitated. She had rushed her words, in a hurry to leave the doorstep. I did not wish to return to Raoul, not wanting to face what he would have to say about his abusive nature only yesterday. It was becoming harder and harder to believe he was going to turn himself around, and each time he promised me so broke my heart just that little bit more. But...he was my husband. I could not ignore his wishes. I sighed and gave a small nod. "Of course I'll see him, Meg. Tell him I'll be there. With Gustave." I added at an afterthought. We were a family, and I was not going to let him believe Gustave was any less his at this point. They had grown as a father and son over ten long years, and it would be ridiculous to let all of that go now.

"Wonderful," she breathed, lowering her arms and for the first time that day giving me a smile.

"Are you off to work, Meg?" What better way to try to gain my friend back than by trying to make conversation? But perhaps this had been the wrong question. Something in her expression fell and she lowered her eyes, nodding silently.

"Well...thank you for coming." I said unsurely. I watched her for a moment longer as she stood, not saying anything. "Are you sure you would not like a cup of tea or something?"

"Oh, no, Christine," she said quickly. "I really should be going. I'll tell Raoul you'll meet him tomorrow. Eight," she repeated, looking at me to make sure I'd gotten the point. She chewed on her lip as she backed away from the house and nodded at me once before turning completely and marching back to the other side of the park.

I watched her go with a sad, puzzled look. There was something drastic that had changed in Meg. While I knew she and I would probably never have the friendship we had once shared, I hoped we would be able to rebuild something between us. Even after all of these years, I missed her.


	33. Chapter 33

**I finally, after seven months, had my first Phantom rehearsal yesterday! I also got my schedule for the next few months, and it's a bit crazy. I'm the only person in the cast with a two-page schedule, I think. But I'm going to stay awake long enough after rehearsals to get writing done because I want to get this story finished so badly and I have more ideas for after!**

**They also showed us some of the costumes, and oh my goodness...too beautiful for words. They had one of Carlotta's skirts there and I almost drooled. We weren't allowed to touch them, though, because they've cost so much to make, but my friend snapped up a bunch of photos.**

* * *

**Chapter 33:**

Raoul was leaning against the counter of the hotel lobby when I arrived the next morning, Gustave's hand tight in my own. My son had insisted he did not wish to come to meet the only father he'd ever known, but I'd told him that was not acceptable. If life from now on was ever going to work out every one of us would have to make an effort on our own part.

He did not hear us coming, apparently. It was only when I placed my hand gently on his shoulder that he turned, his eyes wide in anticipation, more alert than I'd seen them in a long time. He was sober. What struck me more than this thought, however, was the recognition of the dark circle around his right eye, paired with the evidence of skin just beginning to heal on his eyebrow.

"Raoul,"

"Good morning, Christine,"

"What happened?"

He sighed and avoided looking at me, instead casting a long glance at Gustave, who I felt pull away slightly. There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence, and then Raoul broke it by looking up again and faking a smile. "Breakfast?"

We went to the closest cafe, choosing a table on the edge of the room so as not to draw attention. Gustave sat beside me, and I noticed Raoul had not been able to look at him since the hotel.

"I thought it would just be the two of us this morning."

"Raoul!" I gasped, placing my hand over Gustave's.

"No, no," he insisted quickly. "I don't mean at all that I would rather it just be the two of us - I just thought these things would be easier to discuss without a child present."

His words stung. How had he become so unfamiliar with a boy he'd spent a decade raising in only a day? "Well, Gustave is the final third to this family, and I see it suitable that he join us."

"Of course." Raoul agreed immediately.

Nothing was truly said, however, until Gustave decided he wished to wander.

"Not out of my eyesight." I warned as he slipped from the table and made his way to the exit. I turned back to Raoul slowly, who was still watching me with a tremendously upset expression.

"I haven't gone anywhere near the bar. Not since that night..."

"Funny," I fixed him an unwavering look, raising my eyebrow, as if he dared to test me. "Meg told me that's exactly where she spoke to you last night."

"I did not drink, though." He clarified. He crossed his fingers on the table in front of him and watched them, perhaps waiting for me to say something. When I did not, he raised his eyes to my own once more and leaned forward. "I can restrain myself, when I have something to fight for, Christine. The thought of you with that -"

"Oh, so it took finding out _he_ was still alive to make you realise how much I mean to you?" I shook my head at him. "Raoul, how many times had I begged you to come to your senses in the past? Are you truly going to stop drinking for me, or is it just another way for you to prove yourself in front of Erik?"

"That _thing,_" he growled dangerously. "Is not worthy of my efforts. No, Christine, I realise now how easily I could lose you. I never, ever want to lose you, darling. I promise, when we're back in France, I will not even keep a drop of alcohol under the roof of our house. We'll be back on our feet. Everything will be the way it was."

I was silent for a long moment, my eyes now focused on a dark spot of wood in the table before me. "Things were never wonderful, Raoul. We've never been truly happy."

"I hardly see how I am to be blamed for that." He muttered quietly. Rather than lower my shoulders and allow him to speak down to me, I lifted my chin and waited until he was looking directly back at me.

"Yes, Raoul. We have established I was the reason our marriage did not work from the beginning. My heart was somewhere else, and I will admit right here and now that it never followed you the way it was supposed to. Never. But you are my husband, and though it is a sin, I will _never _regret the night I shared before that became."

"How dare you?" He asked quietly, a look of disbelief plain in his eyes.

"That night gave me my son; the one person in the world I am completely sure of. I do not even know who I would be today if it were not for him. So no, I will not regret that night."

Raoul watched me for a long moment. I looked back at him. Gustave came back to the table to tell me what he'd seen outside, and only then did I allow myself to break away from my husband's gaze to speak to my son, still glancing every now and then at Raoul, who was watching silently.

When Gustave left once more I narrowed my eyes at my husband. "You can't even look at him."

"There is too much I see in him now. Things I was so ignorant about before. It's all in front of me now."

"He'syour _son_," I reminded him, hurt.

"He is _not_ my son." He was pointing a finger at me now, and I felt angry tears burn behind my eyes. "Do not confess to me that you gave yourself to someone else and then try to lay the result on me. Gustave is not my son."

"Do you really hate _him_ that much to abandon the boy you raised? Doesn't Gustave mean _anything _to you?"

"As I said, Christine, my opinions changed when I learned the truth about that child."

"So...when you mentioned us going back to France, did you mean we would be taking Gustave with us?"

"Of course we will be taking Gustave! France is his home, isn't it?"

"But you won't call him your own? Will you be taking him just for the satisfaction of having something else that is _his _to your name?" He seemed to be at a loss for words now. His fingers rose from the table and pressed gently against the dark circle around his eye, apparently unaware that I was still seated in front of him.

"Raoul?" his eyes flicked to me, almost as if he seemed bored. "How did it happen?" of course I knew the answer. But I wished desperately for him to tell me I was wrong with my suspicions.

There was a long time before he answered. "I'm not the only one able to hurt you, Christine." He sighed.

There was nothing else to say after this exchange. I sipped my water slowly, watching the park outside the window. When an hour or so had passed, clock chiming announcing it was now eleven, I stood from my chair and bid Raoul a good day. It should have been strange, leaving my husband to do as he pleased with the rest of his day, but as I walked further and further away from him, taking my son's hand on the way, I realised this was not the case.

Here, in Phantasma, it felt as if we had two separate lives. During our time spent here we had hardly acted like a married couple; I had seen him rarely. It was as though America had given me a break from my married life, setting me in between two different men and telling me it was okay not to focus so purely on my husband. I shook my head at the disloyal thoughts, but they existed and it was hard to disapprove of them.

Gustave and I made it back to Erik's home and he sat himself down at the piano. I put my face in my hands in the armchair beside him and tried to gather my thoughts. I was _married to Raoul._ Yet, my thoughts were excited for the next time I would see Erik. Perhaps America could be one short spot in my life where I would be able to do as I pleased? Of course, I would never stray too far from Raoul. He was the man I was bound to. But, while I was here...there was nothing stopping me from enjoying the company of Erik.

My eyes slipped to Gustave, who was so focused on his music he seemed not to have noticed my frustration. Raoul had said he would come back to France with us. Even if he hadn't I would have been taking him home. But he'd made it plain to me that he would not think of Gustave as his own anymore. For my son, this surely would not be much of a change. For a great portion of Gustave's life Raoul had been missing, either working away from home, enduring late nights, or spending his free time during evenings in pubs.

I didn't know what would happen when I was to take Gustave back to France on Erik's side of things. They did not really have a bond other than their blood, seeing as Gustave hadn't given his real father much of a chance since the revealing of his face. But there was obviously something between them that Raoul missed with Gustave. Did Gustave mean enough to Erik for him to be missed?

Erik had been broken so many times before. But bringing me here had been his doing, and he knew I would eventually have to return to Paris. Leaving would not be my fault this time. And Raoul had promised me he would leave his demons behind. To have a sober husband once more...things would be better.

Gustave stopped playing and turned to me, his dark eyes studying me as he pursed his lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking about. I was too lazy to look away from him. I just sighed and leaned back in my chair, watching my son as I lost myself in my thoughts.


	34. Chapter 34

**34:**

I was going over the score for my performance which sat on the piano when there was a knock at the door. I had been ignoring my meaning for coming to America, but I _was_ here to sing, and it was about time I worked on what I had been given.

Gustave almost flew to the door, composing himself before pulling it open orderly. I saw him take a few steps away before I registered who was standing on the other side.

"Gustave," Erik's voice was careful, calm, but I could see the hurt expression which twisted the left side of his face when Gustave had moved away from him automatically.

"Hello, Erik," I said politely, trying to bring the attention to myself.

He looked at Gustave for a moment longer before turning to me. "Christine,"

"What brings you here this afternoon?"

"I thought it appropriate that I should come to check on my guests," he explained slowly, walking gracefully to the piano I stood before and turning a page of the score. "I trust things are well?"

"Of course," I agreed, watching his long fingers as he ran the tips of them across the melody line of the music.

"Wonderful," he turned quickly and crossed his hands, giving me a supposedly charming look to which I frowned. "Then you will be able to join me for dinner tonight."

I chuckled softly, and he continued to watch me. "I am usually asked before expected to join a gentleman on dates."

His face fell, and he held out his hand, into which I placed my own. "Christine, I would like to ask to escort you to dinner tonight, if you should wish it."

I nodded once, neither smiling nor frowning and watched him as I answered. "Let me dress appropriately."

Twenty minutes later, I was holding the arm of Phantasma's owner as he led me through his park, toward a beautiful restaurant busy with customers. He held out my chair for me before sitting in his own, and picked up his menu without saying anything more. I noticed how quickly the waiters seemed to join us, as well as how nervous they appeared, and was pleasantly surprised when Erik ordered for me.

"You look wonderful tonight, Christine," he said once we'd been served our meals.

"Thank you," I said, unable to keep a wide smile from my face at both his words and the way he seemed to effortlessly be saying these things. "You look very nice yourself, Erik."

"I trust things have not been too dull since you left the suite?"

"No, I...I met Raoul yesterday." I watched him closely as he stiffened and clenched his teeth. "He's not in the best of shape, actually...it seems he has hurt his eye," his left hand clenched into a fist as I said this and I sighed. "Erik, you promised you would not hurt him."

"I merely paid him a visit to make sure he knew he had done the wrong thing. But you know, as well as I, that I do not have a hold on my temper at the best of times."

"Oh, God," I put my face in my hands and looked up again to see him standing beside me, holding out his hand.

He did not take me back to his home where Gustave waited, as I was expecting. Instead, we arrived at his small room with the piano and portrait. I sunk into an armchair without saying anything and felt him sit beside me. I waited a long moment before I began speaking, not completely sure I wished to approach this subject with Erik.

"Raoul assured me he would become sober." He snorted, and I continued. "He promised our marriage would be better once we were back in Paris." He did not say anything, and I was confused when I realised that I wished he would. So, I continued. "But he also said that he would not treat Gustave as his son anymore."

"Then there is no question. You will not be able to leave America without your son -"

"He wants Gustave to come back with us." I clarified. "He just will not call him his own."

Erik's hands shook in his lap, and he twisted his fingers together in a way that looked painful. "Erik, he could not even look at him! He spent ten years raising Gustave, and he could not look at him!" I burst into tears at that, wishing that Clara were here so I would be able to feed my problems to her. Meg had served well enough for this once, but I doubted she would show such sympathy now. She was just something else in my life right now that left me confused and upset.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now...tell me, please? Should I just give up?" I felt him pull me into his arms, my face behind my hands as I sobbed. "Everything's so confusing, and I can't have what I want and I'm scared that I am going to have to go back to France and Raoul will be worse than before! I don't understand how things will work if he refuses to acknowledge Gustave...and I doubt he will ever be able to trust me again..." I lifted my head and watched, unbelieving, when he lifted his hands to wipe the tears from my face.

"Christine, I have waited for ten years to see you again. You have been the one person I have missed. But I know if you were to take him from me, if both of you were to go...I don't think I could live through that. I told myself that if you were to leave after your performance, it would not matter. You would be gone for good, and I could end my life being sure."

"Erik -"

"I never thought I could ever be a father," he said, his voice soft now. "Especially to someone as flawless as Gustave. And though he recoils in horror from me, I still feel as though he needs to stay in my life. I think...after some time, he could learn to be near me."

Ever so slowly, my left hand rose from my lap to the right side of his face, hovering above the mask. My actions were careful, asking him if this was okay. He looked back into my eyes silently as I curled my fingers underneath the barrier and began pulling it from his face. His body stiffened, and his hand twitched, as if to stop me, but his eyes remained focused on mine, and I was sure not to show anything other than acceptance on my face when he was finally presented to me.

He sighed when I put my fingers against the deformity gently.

I gave him a soft smile and spoke in a whisper. "You and Gustave are so much the same person I am surprised every day. I am sure he will not be distant forever. He values your capabilities too much. He has never had someone so like himself before. He can _learn _off you. He has not been able to learn from many people in his life. And _that is _what will matter more to him than your face."

Before I knew what I was doing, I had leaned forward to press my lips against his right cheek, shocked at my own actions as well as his when I felt his hands, one on the back of my head, the other on my upper arm, holding me so, so gently against him. He let out a shaky breath when I moved just slightly, my eyes closed, my hands on his shoulders.

"Christine..."

"Here, I forget I belong to someone else. I feel as though I'm my own person." My eyes finally opened to look at him questioningly, and I saw his face to be strained, distraught.

"I want to kiss you," he murmured as he leaned forward, his lips brushing my own as he spoke. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, my fingers tightening on his shoulders as my head grew heavy and threatened to fall back.

We were completely still, both of us breathing slowly, our lips only a fraction away, sharing the same air. My fingers shook as they made their way from his shoulders to either side of his face, and I traced the abnormal markings on his right cheek, causing him to sigh and close his eyes.

I was not offended. I did not feel guilty, or as though what I was doing was wrong. Because what I was doing felt so much more right than any of the kisses or touches I had shared with Raoul that questioning was not an option. Had he honestly been this consuming last time I had been so close to him? Or had it been distance that had made me crazed?

I lost myself against him. I was not even aware that I was hardly breathing, trying to remember everything about this moment, until he held my face between his hands to wake me, leaning his forehead against my own as I struggled to breathe once more. I pressed my lips together to stop the small smile that so desperately wished to make an appearance and placed my hand against my chest.

"This is our place," he whispered. "This is where we can be together."

I nodded desperately against him, finally opening my eyes to watch as he wound his arms around my shoulders and held me against him. My heart was racing, and my fingers shook, and for that one moment I did not care about Raoul. Erik's words had fed my mind of something I otherwise would have laughed at. This place was just another room in a world where I constantly felt trapped. But somehow, it made me feel freer. I truly felt as though Erik and I could be together here.

"We must return you to Gustave," he murmured after a few long moments.

I sighed and pulled away from him, disappointed that this moment had to end. I did not want to return to the real world. I wanted to lock myself away forever with Erik. But Gustave was now in my mind and a part of me was longing to see him again, make sure he had been okay by himself for the evening.

Erik walked me back to his home, and instead of our arms being linked formally as had been the case previously while we'd walked through Phantasma, we held our hands together tightly. He did not stop at the door, but opened it and motioned for me to enter first, following after me.

A pair of curious dark eyes studied us at the entrance foyer and I fixed my son a stern look. I saw his confidence waver when Erik made his way further into the room, but he did not back down. "Gustave, you should be sleeping."

"I was just waiting for you."

"Well, I am home now. You were all right, weren't you?"

He nodded, his eyes trained on Erik, who I knew would be looking straight back at him. I broke the uncomfortable air by gliding forward to take his hand and tug him in the direction of his room.

"I'm not tired," he told me when I'd closed the door behind us.

"It is well past your bedtime. Whether you are tired or not, you should be getting some sleep. Living in an amusement park is not going to help you keep your eyes open without it."

"Is Mister Y still here?"

"I believe so,"

"When is he leaving?"

"When I tell him goodbye, I imagine." He rolled his eyes and climbed under the covers, throwing a wary glance to the door. I frowned hopelessly and ran a hand through his hair, pushing his head back against his pillow in the process.

"Will we be leaving America after your performance?" he asked me after a moment of silence.

I looked to the floor, tracing the ends of my fingernails, my eyes wide as I asked myself the same question. Returning to France and to my life as a Vicomtess seemed like the most awful option in the world, but I was not stupid enough to believe I had any other choice. My life was with Raoul, not in America.

I was reminded of our most recent time of Raoul, seeing him glance away from Gustave repeatedly in my mind, flinching when I said his name, ignoring his questions. I could not bring myself to let Gustave live in a household where his father figure would have nothing to do with him. I would have to have another conversation with Raoul about our situation...

The situation I had taken part in causing. _I _was the reason for the most important people in my life hurting.

"What would _you_ like to do, Gustave?"

When I looked back up he was staring at me, perhaps judging what I would like him to say. It was a long time before he spoke again, and in his hesitation we both heard the beginning of a gentle melody from the grand piano in the living room.

"I do not want to home. Not yet."

"Where would you like to go?"

He was silent again, and he stared straight into my eyes. I had the feeling he was trying to tell me something without having to speak, looking a little angry that I had not picked up on what he was trying to say.

"You want to stay here."

He nodded slowly, his eyes easing. "But I don't know how to be around _him."_

We were speaking in whispers now, and I continually checked that the piano was still playing. "You do not have to be afraid of him, Gustave."

"I'm not afraid of _him..._I'm afraid of his face. I'm scared he is going to take off the mask -"

"It is just a face, Gustave. It does _not_ make him a monster. You have no idea of what that man has been through because of people not being able to understand; to look past his face."

"But it frightened me," he said in a small voice.

I took his small hand and waited until he looked up at me. "Do not treat him as if he frightens you. He is curious about you. He wishes to get to know you, I think."

"Raoul does not wish to know me anymore."

My eyebrows had risen when he called Raoul by his first name. "I am sure that is not true." I made my voice gentle, trying to ease the sensitive child somewhere inside my mature son.

"I will not act frightened anymore, mother. If it means we can stay here."

I pushed myself out of the chair and kissed his forehead gently. "There's nothing to mean we can stay here, Gustave. Our home is in France."

"Then why would you ask me what I wanted?"

I stopped halfway through the door and stared at the frame as I thought over how to answer him. "Your opinion matters to me."

Erik was still playing when I joined him in the living room. I'd walked slowly, trying to make my footfalls as silent as possible, but I knew it was all in vain when he stopped mid-way through a song and caught the hand I was stretching toward his shoulder. "Why don't you sit with me?"

I took a seat without question and felt my eyes slip closed when his long fingers caged my face, so, so gently on my jaw and temples. He tilted my face so it was lifted to his own, and I half-expected him to kiss me, _finally_, despite our return to the world. There was a long wait before I opened my eyes to see him frowning in concern back at me.

"What is it?"

"What is it that _you_ want, Christine?"

I sighed and lowered my head as his hands fell from my face. I lifted my own hand to press against his waistcoat, holding distance between the two of us. "I do not know how to answer, that, Erik."

"Tell me what it is you want!" he said, frustrated now.

"I - I don't know what to say! I cannot say returning to France is going to be easy, but it is all I can do!"

"You can stay here," he said eagerly.

"You know that is not an option."

"Anything is an option, Christine. And we are all waiting for you to choose. What will it be?"

"Erik, I am not going to speak about this now. Raoul is my husband -"

"Yet you know returning to France beside him is going to be a mistake."

"But what about Gustave? His home is France. _My_ home is France. Everything we own is there; we cannot just abandon our lives!"

"You can improve them," he caught both of my hands and held them to his chest. "The media is aware of the problems of your marriage, Christine. Your separation to your husband would not be an unexpected surprise to anyone who has been kept up-to-date on your life through the newspapers. The words printed for them to read tell of what you wish to hide."

"A woman does _not_ divorce her husband because of simply money problems! How could I put such a mark against the de Changy name? I will _not _leave Raoul to pick up the pieces of what _I _caused!"

"And I _will not_ have you returning to France with him without considering other options! The world has never thought twice about pointing a finger in my direction at first mention of a monster, and I am positive that if I had committed a quarter of that fop's crimes in the last decade there would never be a forgiving soul in my life again." He stood as he spoke and walked around the bench before the piano, stopping just short of an arm's length away from me.

I did not know what to say to that. Erik had _murdered. _Not any innocent people that I was aware of, but still, killing was the ultimate crime in my opinion. I wondered if he truly saw himself as a new person now he was living in America, because I was finding it difficult to associate him with the Phantom I had once known. "Erik..."

"I have worked hard, Christine," he said in a hushed voice, slowly turning back to me. He lowered himself onto his knees, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I have worked myself to the greatest of extremes in order to be prepared for your return to my life. I have done everything in my power to give you reason to stay with me, and it is not enough simply because you are too selfless to think about what you need. You do not wish to return to France. You wish to stay with me. Stop looking for excuses which tell you to leave." His eyes darkened as he stared into my own and I felt my eyelids lower as his words sunk into my mind.

"Now...what is it that you want?"

"I want to stay with you." I mumbled immediately. His eyes stayed dark as he stood and kissed the top of my head, pulling back to brush a curl that had fallen from the pins at the top of my head away from my face.

"Get ready for bed, Christine. I will see you in the morning."


End file.
